


The Love of a Better Man

by NomDePlumLoki



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgard (Marvel), Asgardian Culture (Marvel), Happy Ending, Hydra (Marvel), Loki on Loki, M/M, repost, spy omc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:09:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 77,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24525922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NomDePlumLoki/pseuds/NomDePlumLoki
Summary: Loki gets his happy ending with an original male character.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Original Character(s), Loki (Marvel)/Original Male Character(s), Loki/Loki (Marvel)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter One

Chapter One

I want him.

I want him as I’ve never wanted anyone or anything before. Not the Tesseract, not Midgard, not even the throne of Asgard. I want him on his knees. I want him in my bed.

I’ll never have him.

“And this is Loki,” Thor says, “Christopher, Loki, Loki, Christopher. Moving on—”

“Hello,” Christopher says, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose and meeting my eye.

Thor pauses his step and looks at Christopher, a mere stripling next to us though we must all appear of an age to any observers. My brother seems surprised by his greeting me, which pleases me and hurts me in turn.

I’ve been told to stay away from this mortal—from Christopher—and yet he is the one addressing me here in the Great Hall of Asgard. It would be unforgivably rude not to respond.

“Greetings, Christopher.” I gift him my most brilliant smile. “How long will you be on Asgard?”

His gaze flits across my face, searching my eyes, then my lips. “Six weeks,” he murmurs.

“I do hope you enjoy your stay here.”

Thor gives me a look and tugs on Christopher’s arm. “Come lad; there’s much to do. I’ll show you to your room, and then we’ll get you set up in the library and you can begin your work.” His voice drops as he moves out of what he has always assumed to be my earshot and he says, “Loki is a reformed character. Please do not be frightened of him.”

Christopher hadn’t looked frightened, not to my eyes. Perhaps I did not want to see it. He seemed curious, nothing more, and as they walk away, he throws me a glance, this one determined. I don’t believe it is the last time we’ll speak.

I had been on my way to Frigga’s garden where I like to sit and think of her. Instead, I turn back to my apartment, needing a more robust company now than a mere memory of my mother. As I walk, my thoughts turn over what I know about Christopher.

He’s a scholar from Midgard, specifically from a British city called Oxford. He’s an expert in Norse, the language we gave to the mortals all those millennia ago. He’s young: only twenty-six. He’d still be thought a babe here, and yet the mortals chose to send him as their expert. From a longer-lived race that would be an insult.

I remember thinking that as I sat in yesterday’s weekly council meeting, ignoring the specifics of his visit, which has been discussed on and off for months. I remember thinking the previous week’s meeting had been much more to my interest. A terrorist group called... Hydro? Hydrant? Hydra, maybe, not that it matters, had attempted to blow up a Midgardian dam with the intention of destroying New York City. The Avengers had stopped them, but Hydra, whoever they are, are the new monsters parents tell their children about at night. The mortals slowly forget about me.

I didn’t care who Christopher was or why he was coming. I had to remind myself that he wasn’t an insult, he was simply here to research our shared history and culture, which seemed a funny way of putting it. The period he was interested in was within living memory of every one of us at the table.

But Thor wanted to strengthen our ties with Midgard so I supposed we must put up with their scholars. I was glad to be able to avoid the mortal. I hadn’t known he’d be so striking or that he’d deign to take an interest in me, even if it was just a polite hello. I’d have listened with greater care if I had.

On the way, I pass Thor’s chamber. A pair of maidens stand outside whispering and giggling. I know they’re waiting for him, hoping their king will notice them.

I notice them, though I’m just a prince. I think _she’ll do_ , as I pass the prettier girl, a honey-skinned brunette.

“Ladies,” I say, turning and bowing to them both. I’m confident, but it doesn’t last. They freeze, stare at me wide-eyed and fearful, as if I’ll trick them someway. I smile at them both gently and then turn my attention solely to the woman I favour. “I assume you’re here for my brother? He is busy, I’m afraid, escorting a visiting scholar from Midgard.”

She nods and looks to her friend. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“That’s perfectly all right. I am on my way back to my apartment. Perhaps you could take a glass of wine with me if you’re not too busy.”

“Thank you, but no. We have to get back to work.”

They disappear off up the corridor, and I realise they might be servants within the palace. It adds a new layer of shame to the whole business. However, I’ve brazened out worse.

I arrive at my rooms, mind focused on Christopher so I don’t have to think about the rejection. The woman refused me, but there is another option, a better one right now as I want to talk.

I try and dredge up something beyond giving Christopher’s job and describing his physical beauty, but I get caught up in his slender frame, the clear skin over his pinched face, cheekbones high and sharp. His hair a soft brown, short by our standards but a smidge long for a man on Midgard, the floppy wisps tucked behind his ears. His brown eyes, impossibly large as he looked at me, magnified by his glasses. Even his clothes drew me to him: denim trousers, jeans, I believe they call them, the kind Thor chooses when he visits Midgard, but these are skin tight like my leathers. The rest of him is smart: polished black leather shoes, a collared shirt, a brown jacket, patched at the elbows, and a striped scarf around his neck. I must tell someone about him, but there is only one man who could understand how much Christopher’s tiny gesture of kindness, that simple greeting, could mean to me.

So I summon him. It’s not the easiest of spells but it’s not the hardest either, not when you’re as powerful as me, but it is an event and events cease to be special if they happen every day. I don’t cast it often.

Now I choose to. I want the comfort and the company, and I am beginning to crave physical satisfaction too.

I lay back on my bed and turn my mind to my ever-available lover, weaving his body with a solid form: lean muscle, pale skin, black hair. I add mischief, and jealousy, and loneliness, but no magic. I would never give him that. The first time he was nothing but me. We’re different men now.

My double, my Lopt, appears as I wish, stood at the end of my bed, looking down on me with my own eyes.

“So. I’m pulled back into existence again?” He looks down at the clothes I’ve given him: a formal suit, black, cut in the modern Midgardian style. “This is interesting. Why did you summon me this time?”

I turn my eyes up to the ceiling, study the fine paintings there so I don’t have to meet my own pity or distaste. “Why not?”

He is silent a moment, but not long enough that I am tempted to look at him. “Wonderful,” he says. “We're lonely again.”

“Not lonely. Just alone.”

I feel the bed shift beside me as he sits down on it and turn my head to see the concern on his face.

“What happened?”

A lot has happened that he is unaware of, large, life-changing events. I never talk about those. I only deal with what we can both understand. “There was a woman,” I say, thinking of the freshest wound. He looks at me hopefully, but I break his heart. “Just now, I mean. She’s one of the servants, I think, not a regular lover. Not a lover at all as she wasn't interested.”

He chews his lip and nods. “Nothing unusual there then.”

“I suppose not. There was a man too—a mortal. Christopher.”

This time he raises his eyebrow cautiously. I make him wait, but then I smile and shrug modestly. “It was nothing—just a greeting—but he will be staying at the palace for six weeks so there will be ample opportunity for more, if he wants it.”

Lop frowns. “He greeted us? I take it he doesn’t know our reputation.”

“He knows it very well.”

“Then what’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing. I suppose, if I had to find a fault, I’d say he was too pretty.”

Our eyes meet, and we smile at each other. “What a terrible burden for him,” Lopt says. “But we are very pretty too.”

“We are, aren't we?” I wish, not for the first time that the Aesir valued what we have to offer physically, though I can hardly blame them for avoiding a Jötunn’s bed. In my heart I know that’s not the reason we face so much rejection.

“Young?” Lopt asks.

I know he is talking about Christopher. “Twenty-six.” I’m almost ashamed of his youth.

“From Midgard, I take it?”

“Yes. A scholar.”

Lopt smiles again. “So, is Christopher, scholar of Midgard, everything we want?”

“And more. You should have seen the way he looked at us. He was curious, not repulsed. But, as I said, far too pretty. He will be popular with the Aesir. We might not get near him again.”

“So that is why I’m here.” Lopt allows a small, soft sigh to escape. “I'm second prize as always.”

His pain is mine, though there is no physical connection between us. I sit up and settle myself next to him, pressing my thigh flush against his. “Never,” I promise and kiss him gently on the mouth, hands reaching up to cup his cheeks.

Lopt hesitates only a moment and then responds, kissing me back. We’ve done this so many times now that it’s second nature, but his body is tense this time. “Lopt, my perfect Lopt. We are good together,” I whisper.

“We are the best.”

“But it would be nice to have someone else's love, wouldn't it? We deserve it.”

He pulls away from me, looks me dead in the eye. “It would, and we do.”

“And if it were the love of a pretty young scholar from Midgard, that would be no bad thing.”

“Not at all. We have put our faith in much worse.” Lopt kisses me again and then asks, “Do you want my help?”

“Yes. I’ll share him with you. He makes me want to be the stallion rather than the mare.”

Now Lopt’s eyes light up. He lies back on our bed, pulling me down on top of him. “Is that why you summoned me today? I am going to enjoy this.”

I laugh, rubbing myself against his side, letting the friction bring me to full hardness. “ _We_ are going to enjoy this,” I promise him.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

I’m exhausted after a day and night sustaining my double, even without the sexual gymnastics we indulged in for much of our time together. I wouldn’t usually maintain Lopt’s form for so long but it had been many months, and I had missed his company. I also wanted to give him sleep, and with sleep, dreams. He never has any when he is gone.

Now I’m awake and alone, my magic temporarily weakened. I can do the basics: astral projection, simple formless copies of myself, shape-shifting—the stuff any precocious child learning the magical arts could achieve in the early years of their study. But I cannot work magic on other people or objects. I need some time to regain my strength first.

So I decide to spend the day at rest. A soft bed of grass under the palace garden fruit trees and a good saga will lift my soul and do me good. I know just the book and just the place. I leave and walk to the library to fetch my saga, telling myself that it will be nothing more than a coincidence if I find Christopher there.

I do find him.

I pause in the doorway and watch him. He sits at one of the large reading tables, surrounded by piles of books. There’s a laptop in front of him, and he types away on it, occasionally pausing to look down at a piece of paper on the table beside him.

The sunlight streams golden through the large, thin windows, illuminating him as if my magic has touched him. It’s like an invitation to do so, to show him what I can help him experience. I can keep him in the throes of ecstasy for as long as he wishes. I can unite with his spirit, share the pleasure of taking him. I can turn him into a frog if he likes parlour tricks.

He looks up at me as if he senses my thoughts and pushes his glasses up his nose. We stare at each other for long enough that even I become uncomfortable. Then I call, “Hello, Christopher!”

“Loki?” he asks, rising swiftly and awkwardly from the desk. I realise that his eyes must be very weak and remind myself to help him with that when I am strong enough to conduct healing magic again.

“You remembered me,” I say, striding across the room confidently towards him.

He takes a step back nervously, knocking into the chair behind him. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to fetch a book. And to see how you were getting along.”

“Fine. Thank you.”

I look around the library and realise we are alone, which isn’t unusual early in the morning or late at night. I don’t know if he’s frightened of me or simply frightened to be alone with me but either prospect deals a crippling blow, and I feel stupid to have missed what Thor must have so clearly seen. I press on, however.

“You like your rooms?”

“Yes.”

“And the library is fit for purpose?”

He nods.

“And the food is to your liking?”

He hesitates this time but manages, “I’ll get used to it.”

The honesty pleases me. He can’t be that afraid of me.

“I love Asgard,” I say. “This is my adoptive home.”

He nods again as if it is no surprise. It occurs to me that Christopher may not have been scared of me yesterday. He may since have been told truths about me I wouldn’t wish him to know.

“Do you want to use the library?” he asks. “I can work in my room if you need me to.”

“Not necessary at all,” I reassure him. “I will choose a book and leave you in peace to work, though I am curious about you.”

“You are?”

“You seemed to be curious about me too when we met, but there was so much for you to do.”

I watch him steel himself. A mortal’s attempt at courage is often amusing, but there’s something charming in the way he steadies himself now. It is the same determined look I saw in his eyes when we met.

He says, “You're notorious on Earth.”

It’s hardly the harshest blow I’ve experienced. “Earth?” I frown, rewarding his courage with a little displeasure so he might feel braver than he is. “Oh, Midgard. Well, as you can see, I’m far more handsome and charming than your people make out.”

If Christopher agrees, he doesn’t voice it. I turn my attention to the books on the table, selecting a volume on the flora and fauna of Asgard.

“Ah, Jerker Vernson. He wrote many a wonderful book, but this is his best. Have you seen the illustrations?”

I hand him the book, and he opens it on a page about lingonberries, a fruit we brought back from Midgard. The berries look so vibrant. They’re the colour of fresh blood. He bites his lip and turns the page to find a painting of a tree sprawled across the paper, branches groaning under the weight of a hundred golden apples.

“It’s beautiful,” he says. 

“Wait until you see the real thing. I can show you if you like.”

Christopher cocks his head, his curiosity very obvious now. “Is that tree real?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“The apples. They what makes you immortal, right?” When I look at him blankly, he explains, “It’s in the Skáldskaparmál. You made a deal with an eagle who turned out to be a Jötunn? He took Idunn and the apples and you all aged.”

I’m aware of the story, though there’s only a grain of truth to it. It’s just another lie I told on Midgard back in the days when they were as eager to treat me as a god as I was to be one.

“There’s power in Asgard. It’s in the food, the water, the air that we breathe.” I make no mention of the Tablet of Life and Time hidden in Odin’s vault which makes all this possible. “Our lives are long, but we’re not immortal. I am not Aesir yet I share their longevity. Your short time here will no doubt extend your life too, if only for a few months.”

I assume he will be excited by the potential of this, but he surprises me, saying, “So, it’s not true?”

“I’m afraid not. I suspect much of your knowledge of Asgard comes from a source that was...” I wonder how best to word this. “Less than honest.”

“You?”

I shrug. “Probably.”

He returns the book to its pile and sits back down at his chair. “I never believed any of it was real until you and Thor returned to Earth. You don’t know what you two have done to my life. Suddenly you’re back, and I’m an expert now apparently because I literally just finished my doctorate four months ago, and the government packs me off here. And now I’m sat here with Loki himself telling me that everything I know is a lie and that none of my knowledge is worth anything at all. Bloody marvellous.”

The emotion is familiar to me, but his reaction seems a bit much given the circumstances. “You could think of it like that. Or you could remind yourself that you came here to learn and that you’re about to revolutionise the study of my culture on your planet. You’ll not be just another expert. You’ll be Midgard’s leading authority.”

“That would be easier to accept if I felt I ought to be here.”

There’s something more there, something he’s hiding, but I don’t understand it yet, and we’re not well acquainted enough for me to ask. I let the matter drop and focus instead on his ability. “The knowledge you bring is vital, I’m sure. I doubt there are many on Midgard who can read our language. You must be a very talented translator, given your youth.”

“I can read and write all dialects of Old Norse, including Norn, and proto-Norse.” He is all business now as if he’s reassuring himself as much as me. “The written language of the Aesir seems to be the root. The odd word puzzles me, but everyone I’ve spoken to so far has been very helpful.”

“Tell me if they're not and I'll have them executed.”

He tenses in his chair and I know immediately that I’ve made a terrible mistake.

“What?” he asks.

“I'm joking,” I say hastily, as if murder is a joke and not a burden I must carry every day. But I was joking. I’d let myself forget for a moment what my past was, and I was just a prince talking to a man. “Just a little royal humour. I'm first in line to the throne until my brother reproduces and that's if he can find a woman who'll take him. He's got a terrible reputation with women. He's a shocking lover. That hammer is making up for a lot.”

Christopher doesn’t smile. He doesn’t say anything at all.

“I'm sorry,” I tell him, “I'm babbling. I'll go. There’s a shady spot out there on the lawn waiting for me.”

I turn on my heel and swiftly leave, pulling a book out at random as I pass a shelf. I’m out the door a moment later and hurrying through the palace and out into the gardens. I’ve no choice but to be alone now and Frigga’s garden is the most appealing place, not just because I crave my mother’s comfort but because Christopher will see me reading there if he looks out the window. I want him to see some normalcy in me.

There’s a good tree providing a comfortable dappled shade. I’d create a table and chair to sit at but I couldn’t make it solid yet. Instead, I throw off my cloak and spread it upon the grass, lying down upon it with my book: _Freydis Gunnardottir’s Home Cooking for Three_. Not the saga I’d hoped for when I entered the library, but it hardly matters. I couldn’t keep my attention on whatever book I’d chosen. I’m too full of emotion now. Shame, embarrassment, and anger at myself for all the things I’ve done and for behaving so flippantly. Anger at Christopher because he will never be able to accept my old faults despite the fact I’ve changed so much. Shame again that I ever thought such a thing. We hardly know each other.

I have to remind myself it’s not about him, it’s about me. It’s always about me.

“I'm sorry,” I tell him, “I'm babbling. I'll go. There’s a shady spot out there on the lawn waiting for me.”

I turn on my heel and swiftly leave, pulling a book out at random as I pass a shelf. I’m out the door a moment later and hurrying through the palace and out into the gardens. I’ve no choice but to be alone now and Frigga’s garden is the most appealing place, not just because I crave my mother’s comfort but because Christopher will see me reading there if he looks out the window. I want him to see some normalcy in me.

There’s a good tree providing a comfortable dappled shade. I’d create a table and chair to sit at but I couldn’t make it solid yet. Instead, I throw off my cloak and spread it upon the grass, lying down upon it with my book: _Freydis Gunnardottir’s Home Cooking for Three_. Not the saga I’d hoped for when I entered the library, but it hardly matters. I couldn’t keep my attention on whatever book I’d chosen. I’m too full of emotion now. Shame, embarrassment, and anger at myself for all the things I’ve done and for behaving so flippantly. Anger at Christopher because he will never be able to accept my old faults despite the fact I’ve changed so much. Shame again that I ever thought such a thing. We hardly know each other.

I have to remind myself it’s not about him, it’s about me. It’s always about me.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

The next day I wake to find my strength restored but my spirits still low. While I bathe, I spend a little time debating the ethics of spying on a guest, but when I’m dressed I soon find myself closing my eyes and clearing my mind of nothing but Christopher.

He is taking breakfast with the court in the Great Hall. He looks tired and I worry that fear of me caused him to lose sleep, but he seems to be all right. He musters up a few small smiles for the servants and eventually makes conversation with some of Thor’s advisors.

I don’t like the way they look at him.

After a while, I notice Christopher is not eating. There’s a plate of smoked fish in front of him, which he has not touched, and some thickly buttered rye bread. One of the servants brings him hot water and a tiny cup of milk, and Christopher produces a small square from his pocket which he dips into the water. I’m reasonably sure that on Midgard they call this tea.

After a few minutes, he removes the bag and adds milk to the infusion. A minute after that, he takes a sip. It’s clear from his face that he enjoys it, and for a moment he appears at peace.

I’m drawn abruptly from his image by a meaty hand on my shoulder. “Loki!” Thor barks, shaking me back to consciousness.

I fight back the urge to defend myself physically, reminding myself how much I love my brother. He told me to stay away from Christopher and I didn’t. I probably deserve whatever chastisement I’m about to be handed, but I won’t make it easy for him.

“What is it?” I ask, all innocence.

“Something travelled through the Bifrost when Heimdall opened it last night. We've a traitor in our midst.”

“I beg your pardon?” I am genuinely shocked. Thor doesn’t know about my tasteless little joke with Christopher, but I didn’t know about this.

“Something in the air, some sort of magic or spirit. Heimdall opened the Bifrost to Midgard to let Brynhilde out, and something darted through from our side. What I want to know from you is what it was.”

“I would like to know that too. But I’m more concerned that you immediately look to me for an answer.”

Thor spits out his words. “If it is you, you're finished.”

“It's not.”

“It better not be.”

I almost wish it was I’m so hurt by the accusation. I push Thor’s hand from my shoulder and mutter, “It's nice to know what you really still think of me.”

“I love you,” Thor says, gripping my arm now instead, apparently unwilling to let me go. “That’s what I think of you. Brother, I know what you've sacrificed for me. You could have had a fresh start on Sakaar, but here you are. You stopped Hela when I could not. You had the foresight to take the relics. You rebuilt Asgard. But I know the man you were before too and every day I'm frightened he might come back. That's the only thing in the Nine Realms that I'm scared of. I can't lose you to your darkness again.”

“You won't. I promise. Whatever went through the Bifrost is nothing to do with me.”

I let him stare into my green eyes until he relents, letting out a heavy sigh. “I believe you, Loki. But that leaves another problem. If you didn’t do this, there’s only one other suspect.”

“Christopher.”

Thor lets me go, patting my arm in a brotherly fashion. “Come with me. If he’s dangerous, I could use your help.”

We both know Christopher poses no immediate physical threat but I can see this is Thor’s peace offering: a chance to save Asgard one more time and help me win back a little more respect. “I’ll let you back me up.” 

Thor laughs. “I do love you, brother.”

I won’t return the sentiment, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel it. “Very good.”

He laughs. “That might be the sweetest thing you have ever said to me.”

I fear he may be right.

When we meet Christopher he’s leaving the table, his breakfast still untouched. He offers Thor a weak smile and mouths a greeting to me. He blanches when he sees the guards behind us.

“Christopher,” Thor says. “We must speak.”

Christopher nods. He is holding a tablet computer, and his knuckles whiten as he grips it tighter. I must tread softly with him today.

Thor leads us to a gold-curtained antechamber where barrels of mead are stored on feast days. Today there’s only one—a convenient spare barrel for the old-fashioned amongst the court who like to have a traditional breakfast.

Christopher stands straight, holding his head high even as his darting eyes give away his fear. “What is it?” he asks, though his tone implies he knows full well.

Thor shrugs. “Come on, lad, you’ve no need to be frightened if you’ve done nothing wrong. Have you done anything wrong?”

Christopher flushes. “No. I mean, I...”

“I suspect Christopher is frightened of me,” I say, sure that must be true if only in part. “We met briefly yesterday morning and I made a thoughtless joke.”

Thor turns his attention to me and drops his voice. “Why didn’t you tell me that before we walked in here, Loki?”

“You instructed me to avoid all contact with him and I broke your command. I was hardly going to brag about it. In fact, I’d like to take the opportunity now to apologise to Christopher for making him uncomfortable. It won’t happen again.”

Thor narrows his eyes at me and then turns back to Christopher. “Is that what troubles you?”

Christopher nods, but when he ventures a look towards me, I would swear he appears grateful.

“I see,” Thor says. “Well, we are here on another matter. Did you send something through the Bifrost?”

“Yes.”

“That was easier than expected,” I murmur.

Christopher holds up his tablet. “I sent an email using this satellite tablet my government provided. When I saw the Bifrost had opened, I clicked send.”

“I see.” Thor drops his voice again and tells me, “It’s all right, I know what an email is.”

How Thor knows, I cannot guess, but he is unbearably smug about it.

I ask, “Do you know how to access one?”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Prove it.”

I hold out my hand to Christopher and he gives me the tablet with a trembling hand, mumbling the four-digit passcode.

I’ve used one of these on Midgard, finding it a very basic little gadget but capable of entertaining mortals incessantly. I unlock it and go straight to the emails, curious about what he has sent. I noticed on Midgard that allowing another to access your online account was almost akin to sexual intimacy. For many mortals, this was more jealously guarded.

I find several drafts about his work, including requests to check a list of books against known titles on his planet. When I tell Thor this, he asks, “What about the one Christopher sent?”

I navigate to the sent folder and find a blank email with a single attached image. Opening it, I see a picture of Frigga’s garden and there on the lawn, me.

I look up at Christopher and find he’s slouched now, eyes averted. He looks guilty.

“Mother,” I say, and his head shoots up. He stares into my eyes as I continue, “Just letting you know I've arrived safely in Asgard. Love Christopher.”

I hand the tablet to Thor who reads precisely what I have said off the screen as if it were really there and not my illusion.

Christopher can’t look at me now. “I've got some in drafts,” he says, eyes widening when he takes the tablet and sees what I’ve done. “I won't send them if it's a problem.”

“It's fine,” I tell him. “You are here to work and we won’t stop you.”

“Please forgive us,” Thor adds. “There are many threats to the universe, bad people who would destroy it all. It makes you paranoid.”

Christopher steals a look at me, eyes darting down again when he sees I’m still watching him. “I understand.”

“You don't,” Thor says. “But I'm glad of that.”

It’s bad enough when Thor patronises me; I’ll not let him do it to Christopher. “Of course he knows. What about that plot to blow up the dam you foiled last week?”

Christopher pales and Thor, forcing a smile, mutters, “Loki, Hydra has terrorised Midgard. I’m sure Christopher doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m just saying that Midgard has threats.”

“And I am saying it would be best if you didn’t bring up such attacks in casual conversation.”

Then it hits me. “Because I was the threat once. Of course. My apologies again, Christopher.”

The lad, eyes fixed to the floor, murmurs something about it being all right.

“Very good,” Thor says. “We’ll leave you be then.” He sweeps through the gap in the curtain, unable to get away quick enough, and I turn to follow him.

“Wait!”

I look back over my shoulder at Christopher. He’s blushing pink now and I feel my spirits rise at sight. “To be clear, I’m not in trouble?”

“No.”

“Good. Thank you.”

On the other side of the curtain, Thor is waiting. We walk together at speed through the palace. I’m following him, but as we head towards our private apartments, I realise he is escorting me back to my rooms.

“Well?” I say to him.

He glances across at me, a little embarrassed. “Christopher was very nervous.”

“He’s alone on a new planet and we’re accusing him of he knows not what. No wonder he’s nervous.”

“What did you say to him yesterday?”

I was hoping Thor had forgotten that bit. “I just made a joke about being a member of the royal family.”

Thor groans, rolling his eyes “You threatened to have someone killed, didn’t you?”

“Like you’ve never done it.” 

“It’s not a joke if you’ve indiscriminately murdered people in the past!”

There was nothing indiscriminate about it, but there was no good in it either so I let the comment stand. “Anyway, it’s done now. I’ve apologised to Christopher. I’ll stay out of his way from now on.”

“See that you do. I will try and put him at ease and make him feel welcome.”

Whatever Thor intends will probably involve drinking and merriment, and Christopher hardly seems the type. But what do I know? I’ve done nothing but upset the poor lad.

The photograph plays upon my mind. I looked pensive, as I was, but the shot was quite flattering. The sunlight fell just so and I was bathed in it. Surrounded by verdant green leaves and bright white blossoms, I appeared almost innocent.

“Well, Loki? Yes or no.” Thor says, and I become aware of his voice and his continued presence at my side.

“Yes,” I bluff, hoping whatever the question is it relates to Christopher in some way. “Yes. Absolutely.”

“Really?” Thor is wearing a mischievous grin that would suit me far better than it does him. “I’m glad. I’ll get right on it then.”

I’ve no idea what I’ve agreed to, but I let him pat my back before he turns away, retracing his steps.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

I spend the day sitting on my balcony with my eyes closed, watching Christopher.

When I find him, he is already in the library, staring at a page in one of the books. He looks at it for forty-five minutes.

I wish I could know what he is thinking. Somewhere in his beautiful head is an active mind turning over... What? Guilt? Embarrassment? Does he want me as much as I want him? Maybe he thinks of me as some mythical beast and he took my picture to prove he’d seen me, so he could tell others on his return to Midgard and provide them with proof.

I’m doing it again, ascribing my faults to him. So, I accept that I cannot know the intricacies of his mind and that I am better off for it.

Various Aesir interrupt him with offers of help and advice. He thanks them and promises to take them up when he is settled enough to be able to organise volunteers. They go away smiling, and he is always pleasant, but as each one leaves his face drops a little further. He puts on a front for them, feigning cheer when he has none of it. There’s something flattering in the realisation that, unlike so many others, he's not entirely hiding his emotions from me.

Hours pass. Christopher takes many breaks to step outside and smoke cigarettes, but he doesn’t go to lunch. By midafternoon I’m sure he must be hungry, and he does eventually go looking for food. He finds his way to the palace kitchens where he’s provided with buttered rye bread, lingonberry jam, and a glass of milk, though they offer him better fare. He forces it down, and I can tell he doesn’t enjoy it, though he is excessively polite to everyone around him. Then he returns to his work.

The sun’s going down when Christopher next rises. He closes his laptop and leaves his books and papers in place. This is his workspace now, and I’m glad he feels comfortable enough here to think no one will touch his things, and that he has nothing to hide if they do.

When he leaves I want to follow, but he’s left his jacket on his chair and I see an opportunity. I rouse myself from my trance and hurry to the library, cookbook in hand, hoping he hasn’t returned yet.

The jacket is there when I arrive. I resist the urge to go to it and instead stand beside a case, book poised to return to the shelf. I maintain the pose for several minutes before losing patience with myself and shoving the cookbook back into place. I feel ridiculous, and yet I only feel that way because I’m doing it for a man. If I was doing it for a plot or even a trick, I could have stood there all night, sure of my success if I did. With Christopher, the only thing certain in my mind is that this is a fool’s errand.

But I don’t give up. I browse the shelves, looking for a romance—something to distract me so that I don’t spend the night watching him sleep. I could look for him now, but I don’t. If he’s back in his room, I ought to give him privacy.

And then, just as I find an old favourite, I hear his voice.

“Loki?” He’s in the doorway peering across the room at me. I doubt he can see me, but perhaps he has come to recognise my distinctive gold and green clothes.

“I thought you'd finished for the day,” I say, sliding the book back into place. It sounds natural, unrehearsed, and I silently congratulate myself on remaining an exquisite liar. I may have given up villainy, but untruths needn’t always be terrible.

He walks across the room without a trace of fear in his step, and I sniff surreptitiously to see if he has been drinking. I smell no alcohol on him, only the faint pleasant smell of tobacco.

“I forgot my cigarettes.” He reaches for his jacket and pulls a silver cigarette case from the right-hand pocket. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been hoping to see you again so I could thank you properly. You lied for me this morning.”

I shrug. White lies are nothing to me. “I don’t know if Thor told you not to take photographs, but I saw nothing incriminating there and didn’t want to cause an unnecessary scene. It seemed best to let it go.”

“He didn’t forbid photos, but I felt guilty.”

That probably had something to do with me finding out.

“Why did you take a photograph of me? Not that I mind. If you’d asked, I’d have let you.”

Christopher thinks carefully before he replies. Then, looking me dead in the eye, he tells me, “Its proof I’ve seen you.”

“I see.” I don’t see, but once again a lie seems the better option, for myself this time if not him. I turn back to the books.

Suddenly he’s next to me, not a foot away. He’s almost too close now. There’s no contact and yet this feels as near to physical intimacy as anything I do with my double.

Christopher says, “Thor told me some things about you.”

“I do hope he was more flattering about me than I was about him.”

“He said you died.” 

“I play dead a lot.”

“He said you saved your people.”

“I did.”

“He said your father always knew how things would play out and he burdened you with glorious purpose.”

“That’s enough,” I snap, letting the tension go as instantly as it arrived. “Please. I’d rather not think about it.”

Christopher sighs. “Sorry. I’m making a terrible mess of this.”

He doesn’t need to apologise. I’m the one who ruined so many lives, glorious purpose or not. “No. I’m the sorry one.”

“Well, I forgive you. I know what it’s like to be a victim of circumstance.”

Forgive. I’ve only ever heard that word from my brother, but of course, Christopher has only heard his version of events.

I’m still digesting the word when he asks, “Are you looking for a specific book? It might be in my pile.”

“No.” 

“I've got a list of recommendations from your countrymen if you'd like to take a look.”

Knowing the Aesir, it will be books on brewing and translations of Greek poetry. They’ve no taste at all. “Long before you were ever born I had read almost every book in this building. I've no need of their opinions.”

The response was instinctual as I’ve been caught off guard by him. Only when his face falls do I realise what I’ve done and regret it. “But perhaps your list will jog my memory,” I add hastily. “That’s a kind offer, thank you.”

He leads me back to his table and takes a piece of paper from a stack of loose sheets. “Here. If you find something really good on there, let me know. It would be useful to have your opinion.”

I scan the list while he dons his jacket. Were I picking the greatest literary works my culture has to offer, I wouldn’t have chosen these. “These are all right,” I tell him. “I’ll choose some myself and leave them on the table for you to look at tomorrow.” I return the paper to him and casually say, “You've lovely handwriting.”

“Thank you.” He keeps his eyes firmly fixed on the page now, as if the compliment has made him nervous again. “It's only so neat because I write carefully in Norse. When I write in English it looks like a spider crawled all over the page.”

“May I see?”

He looks surprised at my request but takes a pen from his jacket pocket and opens a pad of paper he has left on the table. “What shall I write?”

“Write my name.”

Again, it feels intimate, and he meets my gaze briefly before he scratches out my name. “This is yours.” He pauses and then writes something else next to it on the paper. “And this is mine.”

The ink is still wet, so I don’t take the pad, leaving it on the table. I lean closer to look at it, and he doesn’t move away.

“Loki Laufeyson. Kit Wilson. You call yourself Kit?” He nods. “And your father is called Wil?”

“No, he's called Michael. Some long forgotten ancestor would have been called Will.”

“In Asgard, we are named for our fathers. So I am Loki Odinson and you are Kit Michaelson.”

He takes up his pen and scores a line through Laufeyson, writing Odinson above it. “There. I like being a Wilson, so I think I'll keep my name for now.”

“I understand.”

“Christopher!” It’s Thor, stood leaning against the doorway watching us both with a smirk on his lips. “Are you coming?”

Kit raises his hand in acknowledgement. “Hold on, Thor.” He turns his attention back to me. “Your brother has offered to show me around the palace tonight.”

“Has he?” Thor is no manlover but I still don’t like the tone of it. I can feel old jealousies rearing their ugly heads and remind myself that, not only does Thor love women, I’ve no idea if Kit loves men.

“I might have,” Thor says, striding towards us in his finest leather armour, Mjolnir in hand. “I think Christopher deserves to see our kinder sides after we accused him. But I've something even better than a palace tour in mind now.”

I can only imagine what that might be. I suspect it involves vast quantities of ale and a lot of tuneless singing. “Have fun,” I mutter, inwardly seething at the thought of them enjoying each other’s company while I am the one who volunteered to find him the best books this evening.

“Thank you. You have a good evening too, Loki.”

A moment later they’re gone and I am left alone in the library with thousands of books to choose from, and Kit’s notes on the table. Right now he appears to be cataloguing the archive and selecting the best works for future study, if this trip is viewed as a success and he can return to do so.

I pull out some of the worthier books in the library and place them in a pile on the table, then, conjuring a pen much like his own, I take a piece of paper and leave him a note in English.

_Kit,_

_My contribution._

_Loki_

It’s full dark outside now. I return to my rooms to eat alone as I do every night and find my meal left on a tray outside the door. As I bring it inside, I realise I again forgot to bring my chosen book back to the room. Oh well. I will have to revisit the library tomorrow.

I’m good until midnight, and then, unable to contain my curiosity any longer, I look for Kit with my magic, promising myself a brief check to make sure he is safely back in his room. When I find him he is there, laid in the bed, silk sheets draped over him.

He’s crying.


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

The next day I decide to breakfast in the Great Hall with the rest of the palace. There’s always a place set for me on the top table but I rarely use it, and even today I have no intention of staring out at my lessers while they eat. I want to sit with Kit.

I find him on a bench in the corner, his breakfast in front of him. Kit is wearing dark glasses today, his head rested on one hand. I wonder how much drink Thor poured down the lad’s throat last night.

There’s an empty seat beside him, and I slide into it, ignoring that some of the others nearby get up and move away at my arrival. “Did you enjoy the sights?” I ask, in lieu of a greeting.

Kit fumbles his sunglasses from his face, giving me a tired smile as he says, “Thor took me to meet the fairest maidens Asgard has to offer.”

“Of course he did.”

“But I'm gay, so it was wasted on me.”

“Gay?” That should mean happy, but I know, despite the brave front Kit is putting on, he’s anything but that.

“I’m attracted to men. Only men. No one else.”

“Oh.” I sound more surprised than I meant to. I’d like to sound delighted, but that still doesn’t mean he’s interested in me in this body.

He asks, “Do you have men like that here?”

“Yes. Lots. None worth having though. They wouldn’t be your type. If you have a type. Do you have a type? You know, I can change my looks at will.”

He laughs gently, eyes lighting up with genuine pleasure at my deliberately clumsy chatter. “Are you gay?”

“Sort of. I suppose it depends what form I’ve taken and who I'm interested in.” I fish about in my mind for Midgard’s equivalent, but I come up with nothing. “I'm not sure you'd have a word for me.”

“I've got a few,” Thor says, dropping down on the table in front of me.

“Hello brother,” I groan. This is the second time in twenty-four hours that he has caught me talking to Kit after we agreed I would stay away from him.

“Christopher, is Loki bothering you?”

“No, we're just talking. But I should get going to the library now, anyway. I’ll see you both later.”

Kit slides his sunglasses back on and then stands up, leaving breakfast again. He takes his cup of tea with him. After a few steps, he looks back at me and then carries on through the hall.

I watch him until he’s beyond the great doors and then say, “Kit’s very busy, of course.”

Thor pulls Kit’s untouched plate towards him and helps himself to the food. “What is your interest in young Christopher?”

I’ve not tried to define it. Sex is a given. Friendship, a deep, _deep_ craving. Love...

“Nothing,” I reply. “We just happened to be at the same place at the same time. Again.”

Thor picks up a small wedge of stinking cheese and points it at me. “Funny that it keeps happening, isn’t it, and in the library twice, where he happens to be working. You've read every book in there. Why would you keep going back now?”

I use the library every day but apparently Thor has never noticed this. “You've not read a single book on those shelves but I don't assume you should be there all day.”

“You like him, don't you?”

Damn Thor. “No.”

“You want to take him to bed.”

“Go away.”

Thor laughs. “He likes men, you know. I thought of you the moment he told me. You might have had a chance before the whole taking over Midgard business.”

“Don't,” I snap. I don’t need this oaf bringing up my every mistake.

“But the heart wants what it wants. Good luck, brother. I never thought I'd see this day again.”

“Will you please leave me alone?”

He grins at me, the stupid smug grin of a teasing older brother who can’t let me have one thing without spoiling it. I’d wipe the smile off his face right now if I didn’t owe him so much.

“All right,” Thor says. “But we’ll talk about this later.” He stands from the table, taking Kit’s plate with him.

“Wait!” I say. “Did Kit eat anything last night?”

“He drank well. Plenty of sustenance in ale.”

Thor goes off to his place at the top table, leaving me in peace at last, which only makes me realise I have nothing I wish to do today. My palace duties are light, the only task assigned to me being a seat on Thor’s council once a week. At this time of day I usually study or write, but I know I couldn’t focus on anything serious now. All I can think about is Kit’s smile.

So I do something rare that has become rarer recently: I leave the palace.

I walk the streets of Asgard with a wide grin on my face, greeting my people and wishing them all well. Many shrink away, but others smile back and greet me. One kindly old lady talks to me for ten minutes about her washing, and her grandchildren, and the cost of wool. I can’t care less about what she is saying, but I’ve got no urge to tell her so, nor turn the brats at her feet into farm animals. The world feels like a wonderful place today.

In the afternoon, I return to the palace and summon Lopt again, pouncing upon him the moment he appears. He responds immediately, no questions, and lets me have him roughly while he clings to me, body taut with the pleasure-pain. I use my magic to relax his muscles, to wet what must be wetted, but I give him no quarter when I’m inside of him. That’s just how we like it.

When we are done, we lay in each other’s arms. Lopt kisses me and asks, “How long have I been away this time?”

“Three days.”

His eyes widen, lips breaking into a smile. “So soon? You can’t keep away from me.”

“Before you get excited, I’m not keeping you here as long as the last time. Just an hour.”

“Long enough to relieve some of the tension that mortal has given you.”

He’s right, and indeed I feel better for having had a body to dominate. But I want the conversation again too.

I trail a finger lazily around one of his nipples and down his stomach, feeling his cock stir against my thigh in response to the touch. “You seem to like it.”

He chuckles. “We created me when we were in the mood for sex, I recall. I think I’m built this way.”

Odin gave me the form of an Aesir and with it I got their refractory period. They are not a fertile race so the ability to mate often is a natural advantage. It also proved very useful at revels on Midgard.

“We are insatiable.”

Lopt rolls me onto my back and climbs on top of me, leaning over me for another kiss. “Who wouldn’t be? Is there anything better than a fuck?”

“On Midgard I once had something called cheesecake.”

“I’ll have to try it.”

I know he doesn’t just want to fuck. Physical affection, an emotional connection, these are the things we both want. I put my hands on his hips, guide him back onto my cock. “Close your eyes,” I say, and he does as requested as he rides me.

“What are you going to do?”

I close my eyes too, clear my mind of everything, even the heat of his body surrounding me. My second sight takes me to the library, and I bring him with me.

Lopt seems surprised to find himself there, and I wonder if his body has stopped moving above me. He looks around then spies Kit sat in front of his laptop, looking out of the window.

“That’s him?” he says. “He's lovely. He looks delicate. So thin. Too thin.”

“He has barely eaten since he arrived. He's unhappy.”

Lopt looks at me concerned. “That's what we like about him?”

“Misery loves company. But no, I’d rather see him smile.” I could make him smile with a snap of my fingers if I wanted to. I could make him do anything.

The thought tempts me. I say, “Perhaps we should relax our rules for him.”

The rules are simple ones: never coerce, intimidate, or lie to a potential bedmate. I know now that these things are basic common decency, but there was a time when I only ever followed them because it made for far better lovers.

“No,” Lop says, seeming alarmed at my suggestion. “Lovers aren't worth having if they're not true. That’s why it’s so good when we’re together.”

“But I want him. You don’t know how much.”

“I do.”

“You don’t. Kit is an obsession.”

We move closer to him, and I notice he is looking at the tree I sat under in Frigga’s garden. With his eyesight, there is no likelihood he’d be able to make out my face from that distance, and the gold and green of my clothes would surely blend in with the tree. But he keeps looking. After a while, he takes a mobile phone from his pocket and appears to be taking a photo. It quickly becomes apparent that he is merely viewing the tree on the screen, letting the small phone camera do the work his eyes cannot. Finding the spot empty, he locks the phone and shoves it back into his pocket.

“He’s looking for me,” I breathe.

“Looks like we won’t have to relax our rules for him after all.”

I feel heat pooling in my groin, realise that even now, Lopt’s body moves up and down upon my cock, driving me to distraction. I’m not sure how long I can maintain this projection, but I know that if I’m going to come, I don’t want to take my eyes off Kit.

Kit is so handsome, so physically perfect for me. So unafraid of me. So forgiving. So good. So tight, fuck, Lopt’s grip on my cock is intense. More seeps in—the sensation of kisses on my lips, tongue in my mouth, my hands guided to a long, thick shaft. I don’t need to look around, I know Lopt has gone, returned to his body because I could hold him here no longer. He’s bringing me back exquisitely. He knows everything I like.

And then I’m back in my bed looking up at the man I created, the man who is almost me, as he grinds down on top of me, long dark curls thrown back.

“I love you,” Lopt says.

That’s what makes me come.


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Later I go to the garden. I don’t have to wait long for Kit. He approaches nervously, silver cigarette case in one hand, the other shoved into the pocket of his jacket.

“Hi, Loki,” he says when he’s close enough to know for sure who I am. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. This is my late mother’s garden.”

“Oh God, really? I’m sorry.”

“Quite all right. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. I’d be glad of your company.”

“Are you sure?”

I can see he’s mortified and nod to him. “Yes. You’re always welcome here.”

He waves the cigarette case at me. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

“Not at all.”

Kit comes closer and is soon only a foot away from me. I can smell the smoky tobacco scent on his jacket and mint on his breath.

“Do you want one?” he asks, proffering the cigarettes.

I’m tempted as he places one between his lips, a mixture of curiosity and potential solidarity piquing my interest in smoking, but I shake my head. “Another time. However...” I hold out the palm of my hand and there is a small flame.

His eyes light up at my trick, though it is the simplest form of child’s play. “Is that real?”

“Yes. And quite hot. You should light that quickly.”

He grins at me and then leans forward, his face mere inches from my fingertips. When the cigarette is lit I extinguish the flame but keep my hand in place, an invitation for my touch, should he want it.

“Thanks,” he says, moving his face away.

I drop my hand, disappointed but unwilling to let it show. He might be too reserved or shy for that sort of intimacy so early in our acquaintance.

He looks around, taking a long drag, then turning to blow the smoke away from me. When he looks back he says, “This is a beautiful garden. Your mother had a good eye.”

“She was all goodness. She saw the best in everyone. Even me.”

He nods, as if he has seen it too. “My parents judge everyone I’ve ever introduced them too. I’ve never had a friend who wouldn’t lead me astray or a boyfriend who was good enough for me.” I’m inclined to agree with the latter but I keep my mouth shut and let him speak. “They don’t trust anyone.”

“You should introduce them to Thor. They’d get along very well.”

It’s just a little joke but he grows serious. “Do you think he took me to the inn last night because he doesn't trust me in the palace?”

“No. He doesn't trust me either and we never go anywhere together.”

Kit takes another pull on his cigarette and looks me up and down. “You’re always dressed so formally but you’re never with the court. What do you do in the evenings?”

If I told him his blush would be beautiful, but he’s not ready for that yet. “I entertain myself.”

He nods, no doubt picturing books, solo games of chess, an instrument or a collection. “Perhaps you could give me the tour Thor offered me. I am curious to see more than the library, the hall and my rooms.”

I’ve lied for Kit once; I won’t tempt Thor’s ire for this. “I’m sure I can do better than that,” I say, knowing that if Thor wanted him to see other parts of the palace he would have shown Kit himself.

“Oh God, I’ve heard that before. Please, not more maidens—and no men either. Certainly no more ale.”

None of those things appeal to me either right now. I want to take him away from the palace. I don’t want to share him. “How would you like to go sailing tonight?”

He seems surprised by the suggestion and for a moment I think he will make an excuse and refuse. Then he says, “That sounds fun.”

We arrange to meet at his room just before dinner and then he leaves me and goes back to his work. I sit in the garden a short while and say a prayer to both Frigga and Odin. I hope they think I am good enough for Kit.

*****

I spent the rest of the afternoon preparing. I have access to the fleet of boats but choose to take my small skiff as it will be cosy. The palace Johnchen staff provide me with a basket of simple fare—fruit, thickly buttered bread, slices of roast boar meat and honeyed wine; basic flavours that I hope will tempt Kit into eating.

It’s late autumn and the day was mild for the season, but it’s a cool night. I add cushions and blankets for Kit’s comfort rather than the privacy they might afford us, and I dress myself for the weather, and to my best advantage, in the blue leathers I designed on Sakaar. I’m not a vain man, my ability allows me to take whatever form I wish, but I like the body I was given and I feel confident in the dress. It never let me down on Sakaar.

It’s dark when I fly the ship from the bay up to the palace and bring it to a hover outside the balcony of Kit’s room. I see him inside pacing the floor, fiddling with his cigarette case. He’s wearing an extra layer beneath his jacket, a dark green wool jumper, and he has his scarf wrapped around his neck, ready for the chill.

I hop out of the boat onto the balcony then knock on the glass door. His mouth drops open in surprise but then he smiles, hurrying to open the doors. “Loki?”

“Who else?” I ask, opening my arms as if I am about to accept applause.

“I thought we were going sailing.”

“We are.” I turn to the skiff and his eyes follow me, widening as he sees the vessel bobbing on the other side of the balcony wall.

“You have a flying ship?”

“It’s far more practical on a disk shaped planet surrounded by waterfalls.”

“That’s true. This place is a physicist’s worst nightmare and greatest discovery.”

There is more of interest on Asgard than that. “This is just what you can see of it. Imagine the things you can't.”

“Do you know all the secrets?”

“Not yet. But I'm going to find them out.”

It’s dark, but I’m sure he flushes. He looks away from me, putting a steadying hand on the wall and peering over into the boat. I leap fearlessly up onto the ledge and drop down into the boat with practiced ease, then turn and offer my hand to help him do the same. He hesitates but he takes it.

Our eyes meet again as we touch and for a moment we are stood looking at each other, hand in hand, neither moving. The moment passes and he clambers up and into the ship next to me, letting go of my grip.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Think nothing of it.”

I sit him down at the prow and take my position at the rudder. It’s an easy thing to control, I need only pull up to gain speed and altitude and push down for the reverse, but I know I must look impressive as I steer the ship away from the palace and out towards the sea. I plan to fly him around the island that stands in the middle of the planet, show him the vast farmlands on the other side of the mountain and the breathtaking double moon rise.

He swivels in his seat so he can see where we are headed. First we go to the Bifrost. It’s closed, but I know he has seen it open from the window in the palace and I know he’s not disappointed. We skim right to the edge of the planet, where the sea becomes vast waterfalls. The foam flicks up into his face as he peers over the side and he gasps, wiping it away with the sleeve of his jacket.

We hug the falls as I bring the boat around the planet and I enjoy his amazement. “Where does it go?” he asks. The falls appear endless but he is too intelligent to believe they’re never ending.

“Back up to the surface eventually.”

“So if I fell?”

“We’d find your body.” He nods and I add, “Don’t fall.”

I fly him back towards the coastline next, zipping past the tidy lines of Asgard’s fishing port and giving him only a brief glimpse of the beach beside it. I slow as we turn, leaving the warmly lit city behind and moving into the natural dark behind the mountains. There’s no cloud tonight and the stars provide enough light for us to see the faint outline of the fields below. Small homesteads and villages dot the land and I point them out, giving their names and the major families who live there.

“You know all your people?” he asks, surprised.

“No, but Asgard is home to only ten thousand people and these are important families. They feed us well. The Aesir have never been hungry.”

I remember I intended to feed him and bring the boat down to a gentle hover six feet above the water.

“This is as good a spot as any,” I say.

“For what.”

“The moonrise.”

I turn the boat so that the prow faces the edge of the world and go sit with him. He looks grateful when I produce the pillows but nervous when he spots the blanket. “For warmth,” I say delicately and he takes it, murmuring quiet thanks as he wraps it around himself. I’m not cold in my leathers but I wrap myself in one too so he knows there is no pressure to share.

I open the basket of food. Kit tells me he’s not hungry but soon changes his mind when he sees I’ve brought wheat bread rather than rye and that there’s no seasoning or herbs on the meat. He eats, but not as well as I’d like him to. I say nothing, merely making a note to bring him food that is to his liking. I expect he is too polite to ask at the Johnchen for it.

When we are done, I open the sack of wine and offer it to him. He takes a sip and then drinks deeper when the flavour suits him. “That’s nice,” he says. “Not too alcoholic, I hope.”

“It’s heavily watered.”

“Good. I need to think clearly tonight.”

I don’t ask what he means by that.

We settle into a comfortable silence, looking up at the stars above us. Thousands of tiny pinpricks of light stare back. Occasionally we see the flare of a falling meteor, which fills him with childish excitement. Then the moons rise.

I’ve been to every one of the Nine Realms, and I’ve been to Sakaar. I’ve travelled in ships to distant planets. I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as Asgard’s double moonrise. I don’t watch it now, focusing instead on Kit’s face as the two large moons inch into view. They do this four times a day, and this will be their third pass. In daylight they’re interesting, and no doubt he has looked up at the sky and seen them hanging there, but at night they’re breathtaking. Aurora, hidden by the sun’s brightness during the day, travel across the surface of Hridjord, it’s fast shifting core moving the light storms at speeds we can only dream of achieving Fystknottr, the lover’s moon, stands beside it, basking in its glow, turning the bright colours into soft pastels as the light reflects off its desert terrain.

“Wow,” Kit manages.

“Indeed.”

He looks across at me and laughs. “When they asked me to go to Asgard I knew it would be different, but it never occurred to me it would be like this. This is paradise.”

It’s a generous description for a cold night on a damp and blustery skiff, even in Asgard.

“Better than a night in the tavern?”

“Better than front row seats at a Beyonce concert.” I look at him curiously and he adds, “If you knew who Beyonce was you’d understand that is the highest compliment someone from Earth can offer.”

“Thank you,” I say, making a note in my mind to find out who Beyonce is, discover any potential strengths or weaknesses, and determine whether they might be a rival for love or power.

I watch the horizon with him and soon the moons are fully visible above the world’s edge. When I next look at Kit he’s looking at me, as if he’s been waiting for me to notice him.

He says, “I hoped you’d come to the library today.”

Were I less interested in him I’d respond with a small smile but I’m too far gone for that now. I beam, a full blown riot of joy spreading across my face before I gather the wherewithal to rein it in and give him my usual controlled expression. “I didn’t want to distract you.”

“But you were so helpful last night.”

My half a dozen book suggestions hardly qualify me as helpful, though when I think of the rubbish my countrymen have recommended him I realise everything is relative. Still, it feels like an excuse. I ask, “Do you need an assistant?”

“Are you offering?”

“Are you?”

Kit bites his lip. “I can’t pay you. I’ve got funding back in the UK that will cover a full team of researchers but the wage wouldn’t be enough to tempt an apprentice here, let alone a prince.”

“I’ve no need of money. If you’d like my help, it’s yours for free.”

“No catch?”

I assume he is asking if this is a trick. “On this, you have my word.”

I offer him my hand and we shake in the Midgardian style. When I let go he turns his eyes back to the moons and says, “You’re nothing like you’re supposed to be. That’s a good thing, by the way.”

I’d thank him but he’s wrong. “I’m exactly as I’ve always been. I’m just a little better at controlling myself now.”

We spend the next two hours talking intermittently as we watch the moons travel up and beyond the mountain. During long periods of silence he smokes. I offer to take the boat back around to the city so we can watch them set but he begs off. “Another night,” he promises. “We’ve got six weeks.”

Six weeks in Kit’s life might as well be six hours in mine. It means I can be patient, wait for him to fall in love with me, but also that our time together will be short if he does.

I return him to his balcony, hopping off the boat before he can and helping him alight. “Tonight was incredible,” he says. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for being such marvellous company.”

This is the time I ought to kiss him. I lean forward slow enough my intention is clear and he dodges me, moving quickly to the doors and opening them. “I'll see you tomorrow, won’t I?”

I fix a smile for him, don’t let him see I’m disappointed, which is as much about my pride as his comfort. “Yes. Of course.”

“Perfect. Let me get you the project’s proposal to read through tonight.”

He disappears into his room and I wait outside because he hasn’t invited me in. “Ah,” I say when he returns and hands me a thirty page booklet. “That’s my bedtime reading sorted.”

“Goodnight, then,” he says.

“Goodnight.”

When I’m safely back in the boat he goes to the edge of the balcony and waves me away. I fly down to the port to moor my boat and then return to my rooms in the palace by foot, taking my time. I know I’ll look, I won’t be able to help myself, and I want to give him time to fall asleep.

But he’s still awake when I finally check on him, curled up in his bed, hugging his pillow. I’m not sure what’s going through his mind but I hope he’s thinking about me.


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

I have spent the last two weeks caught between utter frustration and pure unadulterated bliss.

Kit and I are together every day. We take breakfast in the hall, though neither of us eat, then go to the library to catalogue the collection. In the evening we part, each going to our respective rooms. I check on him occasionally, watch him sit on the balcony and smoke glumly. Sometimes he cries. I think he must find our days together exhausting but he claims he needs me for his work.

His intention is to create a database containing the titles of every book in the palace library and brief descriptions of the contents. Future scholars will be able to make proposals to visit based upon the works available and make requests for copies.

Kit is making a separate list of texts he’d like to study. Every day it grows, filling up with histories, tales of wars amongst the nine realms and political wranglings. His choices have merit, I suppose, but there’s no soul in them.

He’s drawn to the illustrations. The older books, written by magic users and enchanted with animation spells, never fail to amuse him. You’d think they’d have nothing similar on Midgard, but I’ve seen what his tablet can do, and, though there is more work to it, I think it’s as good as anything in the library. They’re both just cheerful diversions.

He’s looking at one now, sat at the table, his face a mask of delight as he watches a drawing of my mother walk across a page. She’s going to Odin, who waits for her, arm outstretched. This is the story of their wedding.

“Frigga made this,” I say, as I approach the table with a pile of books, recognising it. It’s a book I read a great deal in my childhood.

“Your mother?”

“Yes.”

He closes the book as if he’s sensitive to my mourning. “It’s a beautiful thing. You must be very proud.”

I nod, which is as much as I’ll do to admit the sight of it makes me as proud as it makes me sad.

Kit puts it aside and picks up another, putting it down again when he opens it on static illustrations. “Why do some move and some don’t?”

“The enchanted books are from the days when there were many magic users. My sister Hela rid Asgard of them before she was banished.”

“How many are there now?”

“Well, many of us have specific powers that might be deemed magical. But, if we consider those with the ability to make something like that, it’s just me.”

I pick up Kit’s discarded book and open it on a picture of the BBifrost. I wave my hand over it, though I’ve no need to indulge in such theatrics, and its rainbow of colours ripples across the page.

He gasps, snatching it from me and clutching it tight, as if he fears me doing another. “That’s amazing,” he says, though I suspect the academic in him is horrified I would casually enchant a thousand year old book.

“I suppose,” I reply. These things were simple devices used to amuse schoolchildren readers. I remind myself that, to him, they’re masterpieces.

“So that ability will die with you?” he asks.

“I don't plan to die again anytime soon. One day I'll pass my gifts to my children.”

“You intend to marry a woman then?”

What a narrow mind so many mortals have.

“I'm adopted. There's no reason my future children shouldn't be. If I decide I want more of my own then I can carry them myself.”

I change into my preferred female form, a shapely body that retains my colouring and style.

He looks me up and down appreciatively, though I can tell from his eyes he is playing. “Wow. You’re a buxom beauty. I bet you’re popular with the straight boys.”

He must mean women-lovers. “There was a time I used this body regularly on Midgard when Sigyn was my wife. She appreciated me in any form, but this was certainly her favourite.”

But I’m not trying to impress her anymore and I test out some other bodies on him: an athlete, a centaur, Captain America. None of them seem to tempt him, though he behaves as if he is suitably entertained.

Finally I return to my own body and take a bow. “Very impressive,” he says, clapping my simple tricks.

“I could do better than that. I could change you if you want.”

At this his smile falters. “Oh God, no. I like being a man.”

There are advantages to being male and I understand he wouldn’t be keen to give them up. No part of me understands the attachment to a single gender, however. I choose to live most of my life as a man, feeling a strong affection for the body I grew up in, but I don’t lose myself when I change. I am all and none.

But I am not him and he is not me. I accept his limits and respect them, making no offer to change him into another masculine form. I like the one he has well enough.

I think the conversation is over and sit down beside him, picking up yet another book to note its details. Then he says, “I’ve been meaning to ask about Sigyn.”

She has been dead for much longer than she lived. I’m surprised he’s curious about her, but she is no secret.

“Go ahead.”

“Are you still married?”

“She is long gone, I’m afraid.”

“Where?”

“Folkvangr, I hope.”

He cringes, clearly embarrassed to have brought up another dead loved one but I shrug it off. “It’s all right. I’ve had centuries to get over it. She was a mortal, like you, but she had buried children on Midgard and refused to come live here. I knew our time together would be short.”

“The Eddas say she’s a goddess.”

“She was to me. I worshipped the ground she walked on from the moment I saw her.”

He swallows heavily, turning his attention to the screen of his laptop. “I think you just know, don't you, when you meet the one.”

“I'm not sure there is just one.”

“Maybe not when you live five thousand years.”

I sense a growing distance between us. “You're right, though,” I say hastily. “There's instant attraction.”

“There is, isn't there?”

“That's just physical, however. The loins can spot potential, the heart makes the final decision.”

“And then the head gets involved and spoils everything.”

“That’s never been a problem for me.”

We pretend to work for a while in silence but I’m conscious of him staring into space beside me and I assume he has noticed the same about me. It’s impossible to focus now on anything but his reaction to our conversation. I want to know if he’s jealous, or if anything has changed now he knows I’m a widower. I want to know if his head and his heart are at odds. I want to go back in time and tell myself there’s a man on Midgard I’ll one day want to impress and that it would probably be best if I didn’t send an invasion force to his planet.

I’m thinking about Sigyn too. She was everything to me. I loved her so much. Her husband Dag, as well. He was my best friend and my lover, and it was his children she bore us. Those were happy days on Midgard.

“Loki!” Thor comes thundering in, sickeningly cheerful as per usual.

“Hello, Thor.”

“How goes your work?”

I look to Kit who says, “Loki is a great help to me.”

“Very good. Would you mind if I borrow him for an hour? We need to go down to the Bifrost and greet some priestesses.”

I don’t want to greet priestesses and I doubt they want to be greeted by me. Before Kit can agree I say, “I’m sorry Thor, but I’m far too busy here. You should have asked earlier if you wanted me for diplomatic work.”

The bastard actually laughs. “Brother, you are the last person I’d ask to take on diplomatic work. I just don’t want them to be worried when they see you at the feast tonight.”

Priestesses arriving for a feast can only mean one thing: Thor is holding yet another fertility festival. They’ve become a regular fixture since Hela killed off a significant portion of our population. “I’m not going,” I mutter.

“You agreed two weeks ago.”

“Did I?”

“Yes.”

“That doesn’t sound like something I’d do.”

Thor shrugs. “Well, you did. Admittedly, you were rather distracted when I asked and I may have used that to my advantage, but you did say yes.”

“I’m not going.”

“Going where?” Kit asks. He seems to be enjoying my spat with Thor and has a smirk on his face that I’m tempted to describe as cute.

“It is the Fertility feast tonight,” Thor explains. “The Vanir priestesses arrive in an hour.”

“Vanir? As in, from Vanheim?”

“Young Christopher knows his stuff,” Thor says to me. Patronising whoreson. He grins at Kit and asks, “Will you come?”

“Don’t agree,” I say, cutting Kit off again before he can speak. I’m being unforgivably rude but I don’t want Thor inviting Kit to that sort of gathering. “It’s not for people like us. I’m not going.”

Kit frowns at me, but I’m sure he knows what I mean when I say people like us. He wouldn’t need a fertility blessing.

Thor sighs. “Please do not slight the priestesses, Loki. They have done a lot for our people.” 

“I've done my bit for Asgard’s population drive too.”

Thor wrinkles his nose. “What you did doesn't count. You needn't take part if you don't want to.”

“Take part in what?” Kit asks, exasperated now.

Thor and I look at each other for a moment, both wondering how best to word this. “It's a big party,” Thor says.

I correct him. “It's an orgy.”

“No it isn't! Everyone goes off to their respective rooms. It's simply a fertility blessing ceremony for couples hoping to have a child. Often those who aren't fasted join in too. It's a way for people to find out whether or not they are compatible, and it's interesting to see who chooses who.”

That’s a fairer description than the one I gave, but I still don’t want Kit going. There will be men looking for men too.

“So I won’t have to join in?” Kit asks.

“Not unless you want to. If you find yourself curious, ask one of the servants to give you a set of fertility robes. They’re not exactly high fashion, but they’re a nice shade of blue. They won’t commit you to anything, but it will let others know you can be approached.”

Kit glances at me and then says, “I'll think about it.”

Thor grins. “Excellent! I hope you do come. Loki will be there. You will be there, won't you brother?”

“I'll think about it too.”

“Don’t think too hard. I need someone to make me look good in front of the maidens. I'll leave the men for you.”

“How generous.”

Finally he leaves us but we still don’t go back to our work. I’m wondering how Kit will look in blue and he is searching the database of books for a fertility guide.


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

When Thor knocks on my door, I’m in my casual green and brown clothes, stretched out across my bed. I ignore him. I’m thinking about creating a talisman to hold Lopt when he is not with me. On the one hand, it would give him a home during our time apart, on the other he might find a way to harness the object’s magic.

I’ve not brought him to me since he said he loves me. I know he loves me. He and I are one, and for all the self-loathing I’ve felt in my life, it is a given. He was created at a time when my burden wasn’t so great.

Lopt has his faults but I love him in return, not that I could tell him that. I can’t, won’t admit to love in any form. If you do that, it makes you weak, and it hurts more when you inevitably lose the one you’ve given your heart too. I love Lopt, but I know us too well to trust him. He’ll let me down. I love Thor, even though the big oaf makes me feel small at every turn. The teasing is his way of showing affection, but I cannot like it.

And then there’s Kit.

Thor bangs on the door now, all the politeness gone from his knock. “Open up, Loki or Mjolnir will let me in!”

I ignore him.

Kit. Kit. What can I say about Kit? If desire were love, I love him like no other alive. If friendship were love, I have it in spades. But I don’t know if there could ever be romantic love between us. That would require him to love me in return.

The door splinters as Mjolnir crashes through it. Thor steps through the gap between the two flaps of wood that are left, each propped up by lock and hinges. “Before you say it, you should have opened the door.”

It’s only a moment’s work to fix the thing, and with a flick of my hand, it is soon back together, my magic locking us both inside. I’ll happily fix it again if Thor smashes through it on his way out.

He’s dressed in blue fertility robes. I look him up and down disdainfully and say, “I told you, I’m not coming.”

“And I told the priestesses you would be there.”

“What did they say?”

“That you would be most welcome.”

I laugh at the suggestion. “Come brother, I’m the liar between us, not you.”

“You’re also one for holding a grudge. Don’t ascribe your own faults to others.”

He’s annoyingly right, doubly so because I know it is my weakness and I’ve been doing it a lot lately. I also know many people would consider my past to be unforgivable. I would hardly flatter myself by thinking I’m merely grudgeworthy.

“Please don’t make me go,” I say. “No one will want me, and it will be humiliating.”

Thor’s face softens into pity. I wish he’d leave.

“Loki everyone has the capacity to forgive. Your life isn’t over.”

He’s right. When you live as long as us, people forgive and forget, but it takes centuries, not the handful of years that have passed. “In time. Not tonight.”

Thor crosses his enormous arms over his chest and looks at me like I’ve refused to fight for my country. “You’ve only got four weeks. You ought to at least try.”

I don’t respond, but I stand up and accompany him to the door. What I’ll do, I don’t know. But I know I will regret staying away from the feast if Kit attends, especially if he chooses someone else.

Striding through the palace, Thor witters on incessantly about maidens, and I ignore him. I despised his love for Jane Foster but now I wish she’d put up with him longer than she did. He was much more considerate when he was in love.

“How goes it with the Midgardian terrorists?” I ask in a bid to distract him.

“Hydra? Nothing to worry about there.”

He might as well have told me it’s a disaster. “Not well then.”

“They are deeply hidden and have split into many factions. We may not find them until they show their faces again, but we will find them, and when we do, we will crush their organisation for good.”

“At least you’ve kept your spirits up,” I say, patting him on the shoulder, enjoying the position of patronising bastard for once.

We arrive in the great hall to a raucous scene. Drink flows, and there is much cheering and merriment. White-robed couples queue for a blessing from the priestesses while blue-robed men and women look for partners.

Thor grabs me and turns me toward a gathered crowd. “Look, young Christopher is here.”

I can hardly see him. He is surrounded by potential partners: plenty of men and some hopeful women, though I don’t know what possesses the latter to try their luck. His mortality would make him more fertile than Aesir men, but he looks distinctly _egri_ tonight.

They’ve all got their eyes upon him, waiting for him to finish talking to the woman he’s sat with. She’s painting his face, adding eyeliner to the heavy blush it appears she has already applied.

“He is with a very pretty concubine,” Thor murmurs.

“So? He can go wherever he wishes and talk to whoever he likes.”

“But you would like it if he talked to you?”

I haven’t stabbed Thor since I was a child but he’s sorely tempting me. “I spend all day talking to Kit. Besides, half of Asgard has their eyes on him and none of them tried to enslave his planet.”

“What if I distract the lady and you can talk to him man to man. I’m sure I can think of something to get her away from him.”

I’d forgotten that Thor’s intention tonight was to meet women rather than help me get Kit. I feel an overwhelming sense of resentment towards him, and without thought, I say, “I'd rather have the concubine.”

I wouldn’t, of course. Not that there is anything wrong with her, but my affections are elsewhere. Thor knows it too, but he lets me dig my hole. “As you wish,” he says.

“Could you distract Kit for me so I can negotiate with her?”

“Fine.”

“And can I borrow some money?”

The crowd parts for us and we interrupt the unlikely couple’s conversation. Kit smiles at me, but I just give him a nod and sit down next to the girl. I pretend not to see his face fall, or the blush fading on his cheeks.

I also ignore the look of fear on her face at my arrival. Her love might be negotiable, but I’m not sure I’d be able to afford it even with Odin’s treasure behind me.

But I greet her warmly and do my best to be charming. I ask her name—Jord—and compliment the gold ornaments in her hair. I talk softly to put her at ease, using my magic so she can hear me above the crowd. I do my best to appear present in our conversation, but I’m listening intently to Thor and Kit.

“My brother speaks highly of you,” Thor says.

I steal a look at Kit, who seems pleased.

“What does he say?”

“That you are so comely half of Asgard must want you.”

Bastard. Why would Thor say that if not to embarrass Kit and insult me?

I can feel Kit’s eyes upon me, but I ignore him now. I’m doing a lot of ignoring this evening.

Kit asks Thor, “Has Loki said anything about my command of your language?”

“Oh yes, that too. He can't stop talking about that. He says to me, "Thor, I wager young Christopher has the most remarkable tongue.”

“No!” I bark. Jord shrinks back and everyone turns to look at me. “I'm sorry,” I say to her, no one else. “Excuse me.”

“Loki?” Thor says, standing. He doesn’t follow me.

I don’t look at Kit.

The crowd parts for me, and I move at speed. I’m furious at Thor, plotting revenge on him already. I’ll go to his apartments, turn his bed into a bear pit so he and his woman are mauled when they fall onto it later tonight. I’ll weave my magic on him, make him even more of a dribbling buffoon than he already is. I’ll turn Mjolnir to jelly, make him impotent in every way I can think, and curse him for a thousand years.

I’ll do it if I don’t get away. I’m too angry, too humiliated to think clearly. I wish Kit were gone and I think of ways he can be sent back to Midgard. I could take him there myself, leave him and return alone. I could frame him for a crime.

I could let him stay and keep away from him. I cling to the thought. That’s what I ought to do.

I turn off into a sideroom. It’s full of guards, relaxing on their breaks. “Out,” I order, and they scurry from the room, trained to obey me if my requests are reasonable and to tell Thor if they’re not. I lean heavily on a table in the centre of the room, squeezing my eyes shut. When my problems don’t go away, I let loose my magic and sweep every tankard onto the floor.

Why couldn’t Thor let me have Kit my own way? Four more weeks of his friendship would be better than this. I have already tried and failed to make him a lover and Kit allowed me some dignity when he rejected my kiss. Thor has taken that away.

“Loki?” It’s Kit. His voice is quiet, concerned. I turn to see him in the doorway watching me.

I meet his eyes. He says, “We do have words for men like you.”

The statement catches me off guard. “Pardon?”

He steps forward, awkward and embarrassed, unselfconsciously showing the emotions I have buried with rage. “Forgive me for making assumptions, but pansexual might be a good one. Genderfluid, too.”

“Gender. Fluid,” I repeat. “Yes. What is ‘pansexual’?”

“Attraction to all genders.”

I shake my head. “I’m actually very choosy.”

“I never said you weren’t. Just that gender doesn’t guide your attraction.”

“That seems an appropriate description then.”

He steps forward again, keeps coming until we are a foot apart. His hand reaches out and grips mine. He looks so nervous. I don’t deserve his kindness. He must despise me for my past, but my pathetic boyish fancy for him makes him too good to show it.

Kit asks, “Why did you choose her?”

Again, I’m surprised. I thought he would comfort me, tell me that he values me as a friend. But that’s just what I want to hear. I want him to lie to me. Lies are safe, comfortable. The truth is too cruel a mistress for me to want anything but sweet lies now.

And yet I can’t lie to Kit because more than any lie I want one thing, just one, to be true. If I lie to him, he’ll never really be mine whether I call him friend or lover.

“Jord? I know Thor favours her and I wanted to have her so he could not.” It’s immature and stupid, but it’s the truth.

Kit squeezes my hand, a small gesture of comfort but one I’m grateful for. “You’re honest for a god of lies,” he says.

“If I were honest I’d have admitted to him that I want you.”

His eyes widen, mouth opens. He draws back so slightly that I might not have noticed at all if we weren’t holding hands.

I let go of him and turn aside, fingernails biting into my empty palm in frustration. That’s what I get for trusting myself to the truth. I hate it.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” I say. “Now everything is even more awkward. And I’m sorry about Thor. He was deliberately trying to embarrass me.”

“I'm sure he meant well,” Kit says. He’s clutching his hand to his chest, as if my touch, a touch he had courted, burned him.

“How could he? I thought he'd changed but he's still a witless oaf.”

“He was tactless, maybe, but I did think he meant well. He thinks you've changed too.”

“I have. I changed for him. For Asgard. For my father and mother. And where has it got me? My parents are still dead. Not a single person in the Nine Realms trusts me, not even my own brother. I can’t even comfort myself now I accept it is my fault. I'm more alone than ever.”

“Is that why you did it? Because you were alone?” 

Another strange question. Why doesn’t he show me his undisguised disgust and leave me be? “Clarify ‘it’,” I say. “I've done rather a lot in my life.”

“Earth.”

Oh. “I never wanted Midgard. I just wanted to come home. I wanted everything to be normal again.”

Kit nods slowly. “That’s all I want too.” Then he kisses me.


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

The last thing my mother ever said to me was that I was always so perceptive about everyone but myself. She was wrong. I don’t understand Kit at all.

Right now I don’t care to understand him. I will soon, when the kiss ends and I am forced to face the reflection of myself in his eyes, but for the moment I am gathering him up, crushing him against my body as I kiss him in return. His arms slip around my neck, hands roving into the long curls of my hair, fingers closing around fistfuls of it. I run my hands down his back, stop short of cupping his backside. I want to, but I don’t know how he likes to make love. I don’t want to scare him away.

Finally he lets go and I loosen my grip too. No longer pulling him to me, I expect him to step back, but he maintains the position, placing his hands on my shoulders and leaning his weight against my chest. “Come to my room,” he says.

“All right.”

His hands slip down my body and find my own. “Come on then,” he says pulling me across the room, out into the corridor where the guards are milling about. They hush when they see me, and were no doubt complaining about me. I suspect Thor has been informed I’ve trashed their room.

I’m not bothered by them, not now. I’m being dragged along by Kit, who is speeding through the palace, so deliciously eager to get me alone. The lifts will be busy, but his rooms are on the tenth floor. As we pass the stairs, I scoop him from the ground, knowing that what is easy for me will exhaust him. I race up, taking two steps at a time, and all the while he clings to me, looking up at me as if I am the most remarkable being in all the Nine Realms.

I’m glad he doesn’t complain, passively accepting, nay welcoming, my dominance over him. That’s precisely what I’ve hoped he will do.

When we reach the top, I put him down gently. We clasp hands again and run this time, grinning at each other as we dash down the hallway. When we reach his door, we slam into it, and I kiss him again as he fights with the handle, sending us tumbling through it moments later.

Everything is a rush. He’s dragging me to his bed, and I want him, I want him so much I almost give in and let him, but I have to rein myself in. I promised to share Kit with Lopt, and though I tell myself I never need summon him again, I know I owe him more than that. Kit should know that now before he lies down with me. No deception. I won’t sully this with lies and falsehoods. I’ll keep us pure.

I stop just short of the bed, don’t let him drag me any further. “Not yet,” I say, stilling his wandering hands. “I respect you Kit, and that means I must be honest with you. There’s someone I want you to meet first.”

From the look on his face, you’d think I’ve slapped him. “Please Loki,” he said, “Let’s not make this complicated. Let’s enjoy tonight.”

“We can. But you must meet him first.”

“Him?”

I gesture to the bed. A faint golden glow appears as I build Lopt and soon he is stretched out in the centre of it, grinning at us both.

Lopt says, “Hello, Christopher.”

Kit ignores him and looks to me instead. “There’s two of you?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck,” he murmurs.

“If you insist,” Lopt says, rising from the bed. He looks very pleased with himself, as if he is the version of us who did the work of winning Kit’s heart.

“Wait!” I nod to Kit’s robes, the blue that marks him out as available at the fertility festival. Lopt understands.

“You brought me to the first time? How delightful.”

Kit steps closer to me. He seems afraid of Lopt, as if our dual physicality might hide opposing natures, and I take him in my arms, feeling like his saviour.

Kit asks me, “Are you a virgin?”

Well, that knocked the pride out of me. “No. Of course not.”

“So what does he mean?”

“He means the first time with you.”

“I mean, you’re special,” Lopt says, coming to stand beside us both.

Kit keeps his eyes on me. “Am I?”

Lopt steps behind me, pressing against my back. He looks over my shoulder at Kit. “We saw you, and we liked you, and now we’re here in your bedroom.”

“Are you twins?”

“Lopt is a copy of myself,” I say quickly, fearing Lopt will lie just for the sake of it and soilt this. “He is some particularly good magic, that’s all.”

“I’m solid,” Lopt says. To prove his point he gently brushes my hair back, exposing my neck, and kisses me there, making me shiver. “You see?”

“Good God,” Kit murmurs.

I make Lopt’s presence invisible, though I let him remain. Kit’s body relaxes against me when Lopt is out of sight, and I wish I’d never created Lopt, though he got me through some of my darkest nights.

“Is that better?” I ask Kit. It’s not an untruth if I couch it that way.

“Yes.”

Lopt slinks off to a chair, muttering, “At least I’ll have a good seat.”

I focus on Kit. “I’m sorry. He’s been my main source of company for a long time now. I wanted you to meet him.”

Kit draws me down onto the bed. “Do you introduce him to all your lovers?”

“I’m flattered that you think I’d have lovers plural these days. When I did, I didn’t need him.”

Lopt huffs. “It’s all right my love, I’ve always known I’m second best.”

I briefly wonder if it would be crueller to allow him to watch or make him disappear altogether. I let him remain. He can leave if he wants to. He might relish the opportunity to explore the palace again while I am distracted.

Kit is very distracting. He’s sitting next to me, playing with one length of the woven silk belt around his waist, making sure I see it. I realise he wants me to undress him.

With magic I change my clothes to match his, thinking he may want to do the same for me. As ever, he marvels at my simple trick, and I find I’m the one who has distracted him.

“Your magic never grows old.” He touches the cuff of my robe, making sure it’s real and not an illusion.

“When you’ve seen it a hundred times you might change your mind.”

“Would you get bored of seeing me a hundred times?”

“No.”

Kit smiles, joyful for a moment before a sadness creeps into his eyes. I can see he’s trying to be strong and tell him, “There’s only one of you but there are other tricks. You would weary eventually.”

“There are thousands of potential boyfriends. You would weary of me too.”

Were the first statement true, the second might follow. I doubt it, but it might.

“I never wearied of Sigyn, even when I wasn’t the most faithful husband.”

Kit doesn’t seem concerned by my infidelity. “Sleeping with men on the down low?”

“Making a secret of it, you mean? No, no it was no secret. I lay down with her husband Dag as well. But I was in demand.”

“I’ll bet you were.”

I laugh, flattered by him, and the memories of life on Midgard. “Those were the days; when you could go down to Midgard and be treated with the respect you deserved. They were always so eager to warm a god’s bed. Men and women. There was a stallion once, as well.”

He stops fiddling with the cord of his robe and stares at me, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. “What, like an actual horse? Of all the lies you told about your culture, that story is real?”

“Don't look at me like that. I was a horse too. Nothing remotely unnatural about that.”

We lock eyes. I’m deadly serious.

“You're funny,” he says.

“I'm not joking. The damn thing got me pregnant. That's no laughing matter.”

“You were a lady horse?”

“Yes, I was a mare. The birth was a nightmare—the foal had eight legs. Odin took it for his steed. You seem very incredulous for a human visiting an alien planet.”

He laughs, and it would be joyous if our discussion weren’t so ridiculous to him. “You're the god of lies, remember?”

“That means I'm quite good at it, not that I do it all the time. Sometimes it’s in my best interest to be honest. But I'm good at lots of things. If I promise not to lie to you, perhaps you'll come to think of me as the god of...” I hesitate. I’m not sure the lines I would have used in the past will work on him. “...something else?”

Now his laughter is riotous. “Are you flirting with me?”

Of course, I am. I’m about to take him to bed. “No,” I say, giving him a mischievous wink.

“You're not very good at this.”

“I've not had a great deal of practice seducing anyone for the last few centuries.” Sakaar hardly counts. I didn’t have to put the work in there.

“What about your silver tongue?”

“Ah, well, I've had my double to practice on. I'm still a master at that.”

Kit cackles as he wraps his arms around my neck again and pulls me down onto the bed. “That was better.”

“Thank you.”

We kiss. There’s less urgency in it now we’re finally here. I’m glad; I want to take my time with him, make this last. His tongue slips against mine, filling my mouth with the taste of his—sweet wine, tobacco, mint. One of his arms moves down, finding its way beneath the fabric of my robe, fingers tiptoeing across my skin. He soon withdraws, his hand finding its way to the belt of his robe again, taking up mine too. Pulling them both, the cloth slips open. He pushes my robe back from my hips, moves so his falls behind too. He’s doing the things we’d both wanted me to do to him.

I’m achingly hard, and he knows it. His cock is much the same, nudging against my body, eager for my attention. I let him remain there, though I withdraw from the kiss and whisper, “Not yet.”

He doesn’t cover his disappointment or frustration the way I have always tried to do with him. “No?”

“Let's talk some more.”

“You don't want to...?”

“Oh, no I do.” I look down at my erection. “Very very much, as you can see. But there's no rush for this to be over, is there?”

“Who said it would be over when we're done?” Tears prick his eyes, but he ignores them.

That’s how I know he’s lying.


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

I give Kit sight. His vision sharpens and is immediately blurred by his lenses. He removes his glasses to rub his eyes, marvelling when he realises what I’ve done.

“You’ve fixed my eyes?”

“Now you can see just how handsome I am.”

“I can see everything. Thank you, thank you so much.”

I shrug, as if it was nothing. It was nothing to me, just a moment’s thought to pull the eyes into shape. Ironically, what might be delicate work for a human surgeon is easy for me, volume creating more of a challenge than the level of technicality. I could fix vision all day, but it can take time to knit a broken leg.

“I mean it,” he says. “I was wearing glasses before I could walk. In England I’m not allowed to drive because my vision was so poor. You’ve just changed my life.”

I know what I have done with that tiny gesture. I’ve bought him.

“It won’t last forever,” I tell him. “Your eyes will deteriorate as any other person’s will.”

“I just wish I could repay you.” He grins at me as he snuggles back into position. “I suppose I can think of a few ways, but they can wait.”

“I’m sure you can. Will you do anything?”

“Not with a horse.”

I chuckle and he seems as appreciative of my approval as my gift. I feel good, confident as I say, “What about with me, just like this?”

“Yes.”

I take his hand and gently say, “I would like you to stop hiding. I want to know who you really are.”

I anticipate tears of relief as he realises he’s finally met someone who understands him. Instead he draws back from me and says, “I'm not some sort of spy if that's what you're thinking.”

“Not that.” I’d forgotten about the accusations over the email and I hadn’t realised it might still be worrying him. “I just want to see your true face,” I say, voice soft and reassuring. “You give me glimpses, then the wall goes back up. When you are happy, be happy. When you're not, don't pretend otherwise.”

“I'd rather not.”

“You just did.”

His eyes well up again, his breath is coming short. I wait for him to collapse into my arms but he shifts away and climbs from the bed, wrapping his robe around him. “You should leave.”

I go, taking my gift with me. I hear him scrabbling for his glasses as I walk through the door.

Lopt follows me, falling into step beside me as I walk down the empty corridor.

“Well, that went terribly,” he says, almost unbearably smug. All those years he offered me sympathy but now I see he never wanted me to have another lover. “You want to fuck me instead? I could be the stallion again. I know we like that.”

I’m tempted to send him away and wipe the spell from my memory. The self destructive streak in me is ready to lash out, and who better than at him? He’s me. I hate him, and he hates me. He took pleasure in my failure.

I spin on my heels, snatching him up from the floor and tossing him into the wall where he slams hard against the gold tiles, body punching a mansized dent into the wall. I gave him my strength and speed but not my magical ability and as he rallies and comes back at me I reach for him, using my mind to search for pain and drag him back to it, hoping to throw him off balance. As I merge with his mind I find myself back in Kit’s room, watching the two of us flirt. Lopt feels no happier when I’m thrown out.

A moment later we’re back, both lying on the floor, him on top of me.

“If you gave me magic then I could protect myself,” he says, clambering off and sitting up.

I rise beside him, rubbing my head, weary but uninjured. “I can’t trust you.”

“Because I’m you? Think about this. Imagine if you were the version of us who spent his whole existence as a fuck puppet.”

For someone of our intelligence it would be hell, but I know there’s pleasure in it too. We may scheme but when we get what we want we relax. Those years spent ruling Asgard, playing at being Odin, were the best of my life. “You’re more than that to me,” I say. He is. I feel guilty.

“Then why do you want that man?”

“For the same reason you do.”

We stand and I offer him my arm. He accepts, linking his through mine as we walk back to my rooms.

*****

I don’t meet Kit for breakfast, but I go to the Hall. Instead of sitting with him I take my space at the top table next to Thor’s seat which is empty this morning.

Kit is excessively cheerful today, talking to everyone, smiling, even flirting with a few of the younger men. I know he’s aware of my eyes on him and it seems to give him more purpose, to spur him on when he should be sat sulking like I am. How many tears of exhaustion will he shed tonight after this little display?

When he leaves for the library several men follow him. I watch all the eyes upon him as he goes, furious that they would even dare to gaze on him. He’s mine now, I can think of him no other way. I may have lost him but for a few minutes last night I had everything I wanted and I cannot let that thought go.

I force down my breakfast and then go to the library. I’m determined to be near him even if we don’t speak. I want him to see me. I’m not thinking of his comfort at all.

In the library I take a selection of biographies from the shelf and carry them to an empty table. I conjure a pen and some paper and begin to note the details for him just as I always would.

Visitors come and go, approaching him and offering helpful advice much as they had the first few days. I listen to their conversations and I’m aware of their desire for his favour. Many tell him they’ll be drinking at The Horn or walking by the beach or watching the wrestling tournament being held tonight. These casual mentions are all invitations but he shows no interest and outright declines the more deliberate offers he receives politely but firmly.

He spends much of his time out in the gardens smoking. I don’t follow him there, taking the opportunity to place my papers on the keyboard of his laptop whenever he is gone. He always returns, looks them over, then puts them aside. He never once acknowledges me.

This goes on for two days. If I were less proud I’d have ended it sooner, but I’m not. I want him but on my terms. Lopt said lovers are not worth having if they’re not true. I hope he’s right.

Eventually our meeting is unavoidable. I take my work to his table and turn around to find him approaching.

“Thank you,” he says, walking around me and taking his seat. He fails to look at me and turns his eyes immediately to the list of titles. I’m vaguely aware that I’ve gotten what I wanted.

I’m not letting him go that easily. “You've a lot of admirers.” I want him to know that his plan has worked and I’ve noticed.

“No more than usual. It’s just that something was scaring them away before.”

Everything is always my fault, even this young man’s failure to attract better lovers. “Kit—”

“What do you want, Loki?” he snaps, finally giving me some eye contact. It’s more a burden than a gift and I hate the look on his face. He must despise me.

“I want to apologise.”

“For which part?”

I only committed one act of cruelty upon him. “Your vision.” I concentrate for a moment, stitch my magic to his eyes and his glasses this time. “There it's fixed again. Your glasses too, in case you want to keep them. They do suit you.”

He takes them off and checks, then puts them back on again from what must be habit. “Thank you,” he says, but I know he’s waiting for more.

“I'm not going to apologise for wanting to know you better. You know all my secrets. It seemed rather unbalanced.”

“It's not my fault you're notorious.”

“It's not my fault you're not. Am I to assume you're better at not getting caught than me? Of course not.”

He’d given me none of his pleasure before but now his face hardens into a bitter mask. “What if I am?” he asks.

I’ve no answer to that, finding the suggestion faintly ridiculous. If he means to scare me he need only take up one of the many offers he’s received from other men.

“Do you want me to sit here?” I ask. “It might keep the callers away. They must be distracting you from your work.”

I expect a simple yes or no, but as ever he surprises me. “I can’t read these anyway,” he says, indicating a pile of books on the table. I pick one up and find he has Odin’s magical textbooks.

“I’ve not seen these since I was a boy,” I say, thinking of my lonely studies. Though basic, the spells in those books were the foundation of my entire craft. “They are written in the ancient language of the Aesir. Very few can read it these days.”

“Can you?”

“Yes. I could translate them for you, but I’d rather teach you the language so you could do so yourself. These are volumes on magic. We don’t want just anyone reading them.”

I can see the excitement rising in him, eyes coming alive, the corners of his lips threatening a grateful smile. He quashes it as quickly as it arrives and coldly asks, “How much?”

“I won't charge you.”

“I'm not going to swap for sex with you. I can't meet your terms.”

I never would have suggested he did, though I won’t deny that the thought immediately occurred to me. “Then don't,” I say with a lazy shrug. “I didn't really want to fuck you anyway.”

“Thought you said you're good at lying?”

“When I bother to try.”

He chews his lip and stares at the books. “I'd be grateful if you could give me the titles and a brief synopsis. If I decide I’d like some translations, how many can I have?”

“As many as you like, though I’d put an enchantment on them which would make them only decipherable to you. What about the lessons?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Anyone would think he had the power. I suppose, in a way, he does. “As you wish. The offer will remain open for as long as you might need it.”

We both know he’ll be gone in four weeks and then there will be no more opportunity. I pick up the pile of books to take it to my table but he reaches for my arm and I stop. The touch is gentle, but when I look at his face he’s serious.

“Why are you still helping me? You're not known for your kindness and generosity.”

“No, I'm not.” I’d proved that to him on the night of the festival. “But I will make an exception for you.”

“Why for me? There must be some trick here. What do you want?”

“I want an ally.”

This piques his interest. “An ally?”

“I want your feelings towards me to soften again.” 

“That's an unusual description of an ally.”

“I still want to take you to bed.”

“Join the queue.”

I step close to him, knowing he remembers the sight of my naked body as I remember his. We know the taste of each others lips, the heat of our bodies. “I want to be the only person who gets to take you to bed. I want other people to look at you and know you're mine.”

He swallows heavily, breathes a little deeper. I’m arousing him. “That's a possession, not an ally,” he murmurs.

“No. I don't want to own you. I want you to give yourself to me. I want you to love me.”

“I’m leaving in a month.”

“I don’t care.”

His eyes flutter closed and I know he expects me to kiss him but I don’t do it. It would be easy, too easy. Anyone could have his body, I won’t truly possess him until I have his heart.

“No,” I tell him. “You know my terms.” I reach down and take his hand, leaving a kiss on the back of it.

He opens his eyes, the tip of his tongue moistens his lips, as if he needs the touch there because I denied him my kiss. “You're a strange man, Loki Odinson.”

“I’m aware. It's kind of my thing.”

At this he smiles and then returns to his seat.

“Do you want the books?” I ask him.

“Yes.”

“Then you shall have them.”

I go to pick them up again but he says, “You can sit here, if you want.”

I do.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

I work on the first translation over the next few evenings. It’s one of the more innocuous texts, it’s focus being upon meditation and preparing the mind for the magical arts rather than any of the tricks themselves. I’m tempted not to encrypt it, knowing this sort of thing is widely available on Earth. Even the magical works are, if you know where to find them, but I don’t need to attract any more attention from Stephen Strange and his ilk. Much better this is just for Kit. I trust him not to expose the truths within it.

After three days I finish. It’s almost midnight when I’m done, and I could give it to Kit in the morning, but there’s a distinct pleasure in letting him wake up to it, finding my gift by his bed like a child on his birthday. I’ll watch, of course, see his undisguised joy at what I’ve done for him. I’m sure that when I receive his thanks later it will be markedly cooler.

A simple spell sends it from my room to his, and then I decide to unwind for a while before I sleep. I lounge on a comfortable chaise, staring at my bed. It’s a prince’s bed: enormous, intricately wrought, and extremely comfortable. It’s also empty.

Lopt is not an option tonight. I’ve called him too often lately and the pleasure I get from him is less acute because of it. He knows too much about my latest failing, and I determine I shan’t see him again until it is long past.

But I like the idea of what we do together, so I make other clones and let them do what they want, thinking of them as him and me though we are all one in the end. These clones are crudely wrought, possessing all the looks but none of the physical presence that Lopt and I share. They don’t wrinkle the sheets, let alone dent the mattress, so I extend my spell across the whole bed to give them the appearance of weight.

Watching them stimulates me, as it always does. Vanity tells me I’ve an elegant form, and I take pride in it, choosing it more often than any other. I could be any man I want yet I prefer the body Odin gave me. My long dark hair, my pale skin, my green eyes. Who’d be blond and muscular when they could look like this?

I palm myself through my leathers, enjoying the pressure of my hand, the ache inside that wants more. Pleasures are so few and far between for me that I’m going to draw this out as long as I can.

Twenty minutes later one clone is having the other up against the wall, but I am still clothed. When there’s a tap at the door, it’s a shock. All three of us stop and look at each other. “Keep going,” I hiss at them, then shout, “Thor?”

“It’s Kit!” The door muffles his voice.

“Damn it,” I say, though I’d like to say more.

“Did you say come in?” he asks, pushing the door open without giving me a chance to deal with myself, let alone my clones.

Kit doesn’t come in. He stands and stares at the wall, watching one clone take the other roughly, a handful of hair in its hand.

“At least close the door,” I say, covering the evidence of my arousal with one hand.

Kit is shocked for a second time when he sees me stretched out watching the clones. He does as asked, stepping inside first. That he doesn’t choose the other side is a welcome development, so I let the fucking continue, though I move the two of them to bed.

I say to him, “You got the first book, I take it?”

“Yes. I came to thank you.”

“That’s quite all right. I’d thought you’d be asleep by now.”

He steps a little closer to the bed, looking at them both. They ignore him because that’s what I silently command them to do.

“More copies?” he asks.

“Not like the last. They’re images, that’s all.”

He reaches out to touch them, his hand moving through their bodies, making the image shiver. “Can you change them?”

I let them transform into a tender position that I believe is called missionary on Midgard. It means they can kiss. The Loki on top dips over and kisses the one below. When he straightens back up, it is Kit’s body beneath him.

Kit gasps and turns around so he can’t see them. I keep my eyes on them, wondering why I’d never thought to do this before. I say, “That’s what you were asking, wasn’t it?”

“No. I didn’t mean you and me.”

“Two of you then?” I let the image transform again, replacing it with two Kit’s kissing and stroking each other. One might fuck the other one if Kit had created it, but it’s my fantasy, and in it, they’re waiting for me. “Have you ever wondered what you must look like?”

“No.”

“I promise you, you look ravishing.”

Kit turns, and I let them go, leaving the space empty for him, if he wants it.

“They’re gone?”

“You’re distracting me.”

He’s across the room in an instant, falling upon me, forcing his kiss on my lips. I manage to stop him eventually, though I do not fight him off hard, and I say, “Show me who you are.”

I’m so close now. I know Kit wants me as much as I want him and he’s letting me in, inch by inch. He doesn’t flinch from me, doesn’t disguise the fact that my request troubles him. I can see he wants to cry, so I take his hand and share his emotions. Fear, pain, anger, desire all swirl within him and I give him my own in return, along with my care and confusion. I don’t hide any of my feelings from him.

Perhaps that’s what scares him away, the intensity of my emotion. I have always been a man of strong passions and my love for him is no different. He must know now that this is what it is, not just some infatuation. I’m offering more than a fling on a strange world with an alien lover that he might one day brag about. From the moment I saw him I knew, but I cannot give in to the love until I have the truth of him. I’ll make him my consort when I’ve got that.

But Kit draws back as if I’ve broken his heart, severing the link between us.

“No,” he whispers, “No, don’t look inside me. When you know the truth, it will be too late.”

“Too late for what?”

“You won’t want me anymore.”

He flees from the room, and I am left alone, wondering what in the Nine Realms this beautiful boy could have done.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

I watch Kit all night as he sits on his balcony smoking. He must have had a supply of cigarette’s as he replenished his silver case each morning, but this time when he’s emptied it, he throws it down into the streets, careless of who it might hit. Then he stands up and whispers, “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” as he looks over the ledge at the darkness below. I send it back up to him, shooting it up and into his room so that it smashes through the balcony door. The Aesir are strong, and he’ll never have proof it was me.

Kit repeats his colourful mantra as he walks to the bed and lies down upon it. Then he cries himself to sleep.

In the morning, Kit doesn’t appear at breakfast. Thor notices and asks me where he is. I say he is tired, having not had a day’s rest since he arrived on Asgard.

Thor raises a sceptical eyebrow at me. “You’re sure you haven’t said something to upset him?”

“Not deliberately.”

“Loki?”

“It’s him, not me. I’m sure he’ll be fine later. Must everything be my fault?”

“This does seem a little tame to be your doing.”

I ignore the taunt and help myself to a piece of bread, though I’ve no appetite for it. I want a distraction from the conversation.

Thor will not let me be. “Forgive me, but I have to ask. Is this a lovers tiff? Did you and he... you know?” He makes a lewd gesture with his hands.

“Thor, please.”

“I'm not looking for details, believe me, that's the last thing I want. You’re my little brother. Yuck. I was just wondering if I ought to be patting you on the back.”

“No.”

Thor nods slowly and picks up his cup of mead. “I was told you'd been seen kissing after you both left the festival, and that you carried him up to his room.”

“Then surely you were told we didn't speak for two days afterwards.”

“Yes, and I respected your privacy because Kit seemed perfectly fine. Now he's missing.”

“He's not missing, he's just not here.”

“Then perhaps you ought to look for him.”

I’ve not got the will to suffer through any more of Thor’s needling “Fine,” I say, with exaggerated patience. “We were together and had a late night. Kit is exhausted this morning and sleeping in.”

All of that is true. If Thor takes it that Kit and I are lovers, it's not my problem. My only problem is that we aren't.

Thor grins at me. “Well done, brother. I knew you still had it in you.”

And he wonders why I tried to kill him so many times.

After breakfast, Thor finally leaves me be. I head towards the library but soon turn off and leave the palace, walking down to the boathouse to find my skiff. I want to do something for Kit.

Matter is easy to create when you know the ingredients but gets a little harder when you don't. I could conjure a cigarette with ease, but it wouldn't be Kit’s preferred blend of tobacco. Better to fetch him the real thing. The other gifts I’ve offered—assistance, vision, knowledge—have been gratefully received. I’ve no doubt this will be the same.

So I go to Midgard, fetching my skiff and flying to my portal. I could open a gateway anywhere, but my brother doesn’t know that. I’d prefer him to think that I discovered the portal rather than conjured it there. Thor has requested Heimdall watches it, but I know the Vanir is distracted when the Bifrost opens and I leave when he's focused on that.

I arrive in London, England. It's a miserable day but the temperature is mild, and I do not look out of place in the black suit I don. I step out behind the National Gallery and go in search of some cigarettes.

I’m still dressed for Midgard when I return, and I don’t bother to change for Asgard. I know Heimdallr will have seen my return and I’ve nothing to hide.

I stride through the palace cheerfully, greeting everyone that looks my way. That’s most people, given my unusual attire. As before, some are kind and greet me in return.

Arriving at the library, I find Kit is already there at his table, surrounded by admirers again because I’m not there. I watch from the doorway, suddenly nervous. Did I really think I could buy this man’s trust with a packet of cigarettes?

A hush falls over them when they see me, and Kit looks up. “Loki!” he says, standing and pushing past the men around him, running towards me. A moment later he's collapsing into my arms. I hold him to me, stroke his hair and look around the room, making sure everyone sees he's mine.

I say, “May we have some privacy?” and the room clears for us, leaving us alone. I take him back to the table and sit him down at it, settling myself in the next seat, my body turned to face him.

“I thought you’d done with me,” he says.

“Why? You were the one who ran away from me.”

He nods. “I had to. You were getting too close.”

If I ask what to, he won’t tell me. So I take my gift from my pocket. “Here. This is for you.”

“Cigarettes?” he asks, stunned.

“I understand they’re addictive and I thought you might need them.”

He’s tearing at the cellophane, desperate for one. “How did you know?”

“Let me have my secrets today, and I'll let you have yours.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he says, searching in his pocket for the lighter.

“Quite all right. You can have one in here. I’ll see to the smoke.”

Kit lights up and then collapses back into his chair with relief. He sucks hard on it, holds the smoke in before he releases it. I pretend I’m zapping it with my fingers and turn it into sparkles, just as I might with a child.

He smiles at me. I’d give anything to know what he’s thinking. I’d give even more to know what he’s keeping from me.

“I didn’t know which brand,” I lie, sure I’ve picked the right one. “If you like, I could take you to Midgard, and you can choose yourself next time.”

“Will Heimdall open the Bifrost for me after the email business?”

I turn his next exhale to gold dust and tell him, “There are other ways.”

We go that evening as Kit has smoked most of the packet by nightfall. I pick him up from his balcony, mending the broken door in an instant, then fly him off out towards the edge of the world.

“You’ll need a blindfold,” I tell him, melting his glasses into a silk scarf around his eyes. The portal is a secret I can’t reveal. A back door to Asgard needs greater protection than the Bifrost.

He doesn’t complain, but he stands beside me, holding onto me as I steer the boat through the sky as if he’s afraid he’ll fall. I wrap one arm around him, press my cheek to his.

Damn, it’s good to be alive.

We must wait for the Bifrost to open and provide its distraction, and I park my boat near the portal. It doesn’t take long, which is lucky as Kit is inclined to paw at me and I must repeatedly still his hands—an action that does not come easily to me.

There is a great deal of coming and going by Thor lately as he keeps his eyes on the Midgardian terrorists and we are soon sneaking the boat into the craggy rock face and disembarking.

I make Kit leave the blindfold on and use an enchantment to convince his senses we have arrived in a forest. Then I feign teleportation, which is something I can do with some effort, though I’d rather not. Finally, I lead him around the corner and into Trafalgar Square where he removes his blindfold.

“London!”

“Where else? Let’s find your cigarettes.”

I take his hand to lead him, but he pulls me to his side. “Can we go to dinner too?”

“You’re hungry?”

“Famished.”

I never thought that word would bring me such happiness, but when I hear it, I know that not only is he mine, he’s happy to be so.

My happiness lasts until pudding when, watching Kit deliberate over rupturing his stomach or doing without, I tell him to order some to go. I’m paying with a cloned credit card when a second-rate illusionist appears at our table in a suit that’s a little more expensive than mine but not as well tailored.

Kit flinches at the sight of him, even without hearing his ghastly American accent. I merely say, “Oh. It’s you.”

Doctor Stephen Strange narrows his eyes at me. I wonder if he knows that, were it not for the presence of Kit, I’d have him on his knees begging for banishment to whatever hell he sent me to on our last meeting. Strange let me fall for thirty minutes. Let’s see how he likes thirty hours.

“What are you doing back on Earth?”

“Hello to you too, Dr. Strange,” I say, polite but firm. “You’ve caught me at play this evening. I’m taking this delightful young man to dinner.”

Strange looks at Kit and frowns slightly. Pointing at me, Strange asks him, “Do you know who this man is?”

“Yes.” I know Kit must be perturbed, but now the attention is upon him he meets Strange’s eyes with an unwavering stare.

“And you still want to go to dinner with him?”

“I’m Dr. Kit Wilson of Oxford University. I’m currently creating an index of Asgard’s library and Mr. Odinson is helping me.”

“His name is Laufeyson,” Strange says, emphasising the ‘fey’.

“His name is whatever he chooses to give.”

“That may be, but he’s not welcome here.” Strange looks at me as he says, “It’s time for him to leave.”

We were leaving when he arrived, but now he’s here we won’t be able to go anywhere without exposing the location of the portal.

I have to fight my way out of this one.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

“It is time for us to go,” I say, rising from the table. I offer Kit my elbow, and he rises too, snaking his arm around mine and resting his free hand on my bicep. The other carries the boxes of our dessert.

Strange follows us out of the restaurant and across the road. We’re on the Strand and there are tourists everywhere, but there’s little I can do about that except try and avoid casualties for Kit’s sake.

Putting my hand over his, I say, “Why don’t you go fetch your cigarettes, darling? I’ll deal with Strange.”

Kit looks at me, all bravado gone, and whispers, “Don’t kill him.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Kit kisses me and steps into a little shop on the corner of the street. I turn to meet Strange.

“I thought you were going to leave,” he says.

“After your last little trick? I owe you a fight.”

The bastard grins at me. “You were so easy to transport, easier even than your brother.”

“When you attacked me I was distracted. I had just discovered my father was missing. That’s hardly a fair fight.”

“Well, now you know where he is. Your greed and selfishness killed him.”

I transform into my leathers as I dive at him, daggers appearing in my hands. He changes too, the tragically cut suit becoming that ridiculously affected sorcerers garb he usually sports, flashy red cloak and all. With the collar turned up he looks like he’s dressed for a costume party.

It’s the cloak I want to cut, not his flesh, though that is only because of the promise I made to Kit, and to myself, that I would be good. I’d rather not spend the rest of my life in Thor’s dungeons either.

But Strange catches me, throws me over his shoulder and into the path of an oncoming black cab. I bounce off the bonnet, shoulder shattering the windscreen while my daggers fall to the ground. Around us cars screech to a halt, those that are too close to one another smashing together, though the speeds are not great enough anyone should be hurt.

I roll onto the road, pick myself up and run towards Nelson’s Column, knowing Strange will chase me. It will be safer for the mortals if we’re away from the traffic.

Strange is behind me, cloak carrying him through the air. He glides above me and I jump, snatching for the cloak and pulling him to Earth. We fall together in a tangle as he pulls me through a portal, spinning through the air in a vast nothingness as we grapple together.

The cloak seems to have a mind of its own and I’m fighting both of them now, Strange shoving me away while the cloak pulls me closer, attempting to smother me. They’re not working together and that plays to my advantage. I let the cloak cover me, more daggers materialising in my hand, piercing the fabric. It releases me immediately, and Strange’s next shove propels me below him.

I’m falling now, but Strange is falling too, his cloak at least temporarily useless. I spin through the air, laughing at him, and he spits some peculiarly American curse words at me as we tumble towards the next portal. I fall through first, closing it behind me as I hit the street and leaving Strange falling alone on the other side.

Suddenly we’re back running through Trafalgar Square, all my work undone. “What the—?”

He laughs at me as I snatch his cloak and this time we fall onto the hard paved ground, him landing on top of me, knocking the breath from my body.

I’ve fought after worse than that, and I’m immediately thrusting my fists up, trying to get a blow in while he attempts to block me, dodging each punch with practiced ease. I wonder if he is experiencing them as I am, the speed at which he reacts is surely impossible for a mortal.

I don’t want to use magic. Partly because he expects me to and my pride hates the fact he might find me obvious, but mostly because I don’t want Kit to be frightened of my power. I know he’s there somewhere in amongst the onlookers, stood with their mobile phones in hand, watching us battle.

But I’ve little choice. On my next attempt I summon the blades again, and this time Strange is caught off guard. One moment they’re not there, the next they are, and he barely has time to dive off of me before I thrust them straight through where his hand ought to be.

I spring up, knowing the element of surprise is all I have to fight him with now. I’m ready to use it.

“Slippery character, aren’t you?” he says with almost an edge of respect in his voice. He stands, and we face each other head-on. “Shame you can do nothing but make those little knives appear with your magic.”

“You want to know what I can do?” I ask, knowing it’s a transparent attempt to goad me into using a spell. At once a hundred of my clones appear, a sea of Loki’s through which I move towards Strange.

He lashes out, finding everything travels straight through them. Seeming satisfied they can’t hurt him, he conjures the same spell, and I realise the works we studied must be very similar. Now we’re both everywhere, mocking each other viciously, while I make my way through the crowd looking for the real version of him. I’ve had enough of this now. I’m ready to finish him.

As I walk, I reach for each Strange, and then suddenly I’m stumbling, tripping over the real thing. Falling onto him, catching him unawares, I put my hand to his head and search for misery.

I find a hundred deaths, each stopped by the amulet around his neck. It’s the Time Stone. That explains his lightning quick reactions and the missing chunk of time in the portal. It’s affecting even this, pushing me back further and faster through his memory, as if his personal time doesn’t understand how the rest of the universe works anymore. I go further back still, seeing the death of his mentor, the misery of a failed love affair, and finally the accident that took his steady hands.

For a moment Strange is stunned, and it’s enough time for me to snatch the amulet from his neck.

Now I know what it can do. This could return my parents to me. It could erase every wrong I’ve ever done, give me the chance to live a good life, a better life. A better life forever.

Or a worse one. The power I would have. I could rule all the Nine Realms and every star beyond it. I could bring infinite suffering to those who oppose me. I could indeed be a most powerful god.

Plus, it’s green. That is my colour.

“Loki!”

“Kit?” Time slows as I turn and see he has scaled one of the lions, a paper carrier bag full of cigarettes and cheesecake in his hand, and is clinging to it while he calls to me.

“No!” Strange shouts, a drawn out cry as the effect of the stone flows through me. He’s reaching for me, for the Time Stone.

With the future in my hand, I know now is the time I must make my choice.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

“Kit!” I shout, flinging the stone up into the air where it lands, caught on the rosette of Nelson’s hat. Strange flies up after it while I rush to Kit, catching him as he jumps down from the Lion. “Close your eyes,” I say, and he does. I teleport us both to the portal behind the gallery and carry him through it, holding him tight to me until long after we are back in Midgard.

Eventually I whisper, “Open your eyes.”

He does, finding us back on the boat, cruising through the air back towards the palace.

“Who was that?” he asks. I can tell he's shaken and I help him sit down.

“Stephen Strange. He’s a sorcerer. He’s sworn to protect Midgard.”

“From you?”

I smile. It’s a silly question. “I am considered a threat there.”

“I know, but you’re not, are you?”

“No. Though I don’t think brawling with Strange will have done much for my reputation.”

Kit groans, as if this is every bit as bad for him as it appears for me. “When I get back to Earth I’ll tell them what happened. I’ll explain he started it.”

“I started it when I tried to take over Midgard.”

Kit nods. He knows.

I stop the boat, letting it hang in the sky, and sit down next to him. “No one on Midgard must know about the portal between our worlds. No one on Asgard knows except Thor, Heimdallr and myself. I couldn’t let him see us leave the planet.”

Again he nods, shivering slightly.

It is cold out here. I take one of the blankets and wrap it around Kit’s shoulders. “Are you all right?”

“I think so.”

I pick up his discarded carrier bag. “Do you want a cigarette?”

“I suppose I should, given what they cost you.”

“Oh yes. I was made to suffer a wonderful evening of conversation with a handsome young man who I found thoroughly charming. I don’t know how I ever coped..”

He doesn’t smile. “You know what I mean.”

“And you know who I am. That wasn’t my first fight and it won’t be my last. I’m beyond being affected by it now.” But I know this is not about me for once. “Were you frightened?”

Instead of answering he reaches for the bag and takes a packet of cigarettes from it. I let him have his silence, watch him unwrap the packet slowly and take one out. A minute later, after a few lungfuls of smoke and some rubbing of his eyes, he says, “I know what I ought to feel. I don’t feel it.” He turns to look at me finally. “I was so worried about you.”

“You need never worry about me. I can deal with anything.” I’m lying to him, so I add, “Anything Stephen Strange throws at me, at least. I’m sorry it spoilt the evening.”

“There’s worse to think about than that.”

“Let’s not think about it then.”

“I’ve been trying to do that since I arrived in Asgard.”

Last time I pressed him I lost him for two days, but I desperately want to shake him and demand to know what it is that’s worrying him. Instead I put my arm around him and am grateful he doesn’t flinch at my touch.

“Shall I take you back to your room?”

“Please. Thank you.”

I return to my post and navigate back to the palace. I don’t rush, feeling somehow that Kit might prefer a sedate speed now. I want to draw out our time together too.

He lies back on the floor of the boat and stares up at the stars. They must be strange to him. Perhaps that’s the source of his disquiet. Perhaps he’s wondering what this will do to his career. Perhaps it’s me.

When we arrive, I hop out the boat and help him down again, as I did before.

Kiy takes my hand and kisses my cheek. “I was going to ask you to stay with me tonight.”

“But?”

“But I can see Thor is in my room, and I don’t think he’s here for me.”

I turn around and there he is, sat on Kit’s bed. Bastard, bastard, bastard.

He stands when we make eye contact, coming to open the balcony door for us.

“Hello Christopher,” he says politely. “Loki,” he adds, nodding to me.

“Thor.”

“Please forgive me for entering your room, Christopher, but I must speak with my brother urgently and I knew he’d come here.”

“That’s quite all right,” Kit said, his usual bright self in front of Thor. He performs for everyone but me.

Thor turns his attention my way. “Heimdall tells me he saw you both sneaking in the backdoor thirty minutes ago.”

He might have seen it again if we’d had thirty minutes more privacy. “I took Kit to Midgard for dinner,” I explain.

“Is this true, young Christopher?”

“Yes. I’d run out of cigarettes. Loki kindly took me to get some, and we went to a restaurant for dinner.” He reaches into his carrier bag and pulls out a small cardboard box with my slice of cheesecake inside it. “We got the pudding to go.”

I take the box from him, murmuring my thanks, while I give Thor a look that threatens daggers. Then I turn and kiss Kit goodnight, full on the lips so Thor sees. If he must be polite to Kit, he must be polite to me too.

Kit clings to me, his hands clenched full of the collar of my jacket. I don’t want to leave him but we both know I can’t stay now. I have done terrible things and must accept the treatment a child would receive because it is my due.

I don’t let it get to me. I won’t. I can’t. If I do, I lose all the ground I’ve gained. I cannot risk this for my pride, even if I want nothing more than to demand Kit’s truths and Thor’s trust.

Finally Kit lets me go, and for a moment he looks sad. If Thor notices he says nothing.

“Goodnight then,” Kit says.

“Goodnight.”

I leave with Thor. The moment the door shuts behind us he turns and says, “You honestly want me to believe that you took Christopher to dinner? The man rarely eats! If you’ve got him lying for you—”

“Go see your friend, Stephen Strange. He’ll vouch for us.”

Thor frowns. “You spoke to him? I thought you hated him after the whole falling for half an hour business.”

I do hate him. I despise that useless, second-rate sorcerer. He has all the magical ability of a court entertainer but none of the wit. But I hold my tongue. “We thrashed it out.”

“You fought him?”

“Only to keep him from finding the portal to Asgard.”

“Which there would have been no risk of if you hadn’t snuck out to Midgard. Twice, I might add.” Thor fixes me with an exasperated look. “I am too busy with this Hydra business on Midgard to supervise your love affairs. I decided to let you off earlier when Heimdall told me you came back with a present for your boy but you are not about to make a habit of this.”

I’m not to make a habit of anything. Habits arouse suspicion.

“My intentions were good,” I mutter, unable to keep annoyance from my voice even if I can’t show anger over this. “I can prove it. Ask Strange about his Time Stone. I could be ruling the universe right now, but instead I delivered Kit safely back to his room.”

“Fine, I will go ask him.” 

“Very good. And when Strange confirms what I’ve said, you’ll let me have some peace, right?”

“Trust is lost quicker than its earnt, Loki. You know that.”

I haven’t got the time. “Kit lives on Midgard and in a month he’ll be back there. I plan to make use of that portal often whether I have your permission or not.”

And then Thor asks, “Do you love him?”

What a question. I’ve hardly admitted it to myself, let alone spoken the words aloud to Kit. “Yes,” I say, a smile cracking my lips no matter how tempestuous my emotions are tonight. “Yes, I love him.”

Thor smiles and all is forgiven. “Does he love you?”

I might have heard it tonight if Strange and then Thor hadn’t interrupted us. “He’s not said he has,” I admit, wishing I could say more, “but the way he looks at me...”

“You’re getting soppy, brother,” Thor says with a gentle chuckle. “I like it. Keep it up. I’ll speak to Strange.”

We part on better terms than we met and I go to my room in quite good spirits despite the evening’s events. My fight with Strange may have worked out for the good after all, and Kit’s resolve to keep his own counsel seems to be weakening. I congratulate myself on my patience. We’ll get there in the end.

There’s little pleasure in happiness when there is no one there to see it. I summon Lopt, deciding that the chance to share was more satisfying than the slice of cheesecake I’d returned to Asgard with.

Lopt appears on my bed dressed in bathrobes. He’s laid back in a seductive pose, though I’ve no desire to go to bed with him. I merely want him to feel wanted.

“Hello, me,” he says, moving into a more casual position. “How goes it with the lad?”

“Well. I took him to Midgard.”

“Permanently?”

“For dinner.”

Lopt narrows his eyes, then laughs. “We took a man out to dinner? How romantic. That’s ridiculous.”

“You won’t want this cheesecake then?”

He sits up, eyes lighting up at the sight of my gift. I’ve never given him one before. “Oh, you thought of me?”

“Briefly,” I lie, coming to sit with him. I give him the box and conjure a fork for him. He dives in, and I realise I rarely feed him because he has no need of food. I have always thought about food as mere sustenance and not a sensual pleasure. Now, with many delights available to me, I begin to see its broader appeal.

“I was mostly thinking how lovely Kit is,” I confess. “He smiled a lot tonight.” I won’t spoil my tale by explaining the fight. Besides, Lopt has no idea who Strange is.

“Damn, this is better than a tumble,” Lopt says, shovelling the cheesecake into his mouth. “You know we’re going to fuck this up, don’t you? We always do.”

“We’ll see.”

I’ve a smile on my face as I watch Lopt eat. He clearly relishes what I’ve given him, and I’m glad. He won’t get anything else from me tonight. When he’s eaten the entire slice he tosses up the packaging and the fork and I burn them to cinders in the air, creating a faint breeze to blow the ashes from the room. He leans back and stretches, moving his body back into the original pose I chose for him.

“That was delicious,” Lopt says, closing his eyes and arching his back off the bed slightly. “Thank you.”

“That’s quite all right.”

“So, where is Kit? Does he know you’re here feeding me sweets?”

A half-truth seems the best reply. “Thor interrupted us this evening. Kit is in his own room.”

“Interrupted before or after?”

“Before,” I say, knowing he means sex.

“What a pity.” I can’t tell whether or not he means it, even when he asks, “Is it a pity? Is he as good as me?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t?” He opens his eyes and frowns. “You must take him to bed. Get it over with.”

“I will soon.”

“Promise me.”

I can’t promise anything and he knows it. We both know the rules. Instead I lie down next to him and accept his embrace when he moves closer to me. I plan to keep him here an hour, let him sleep and dream, but the proximity of our bodies soon leaves him wanting, and I give him my hand, bringing him off to help him sleep.

I do not know what I will do about him.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Morning comes soon enough and I go to meet Kit for breakfast. All is as it should be, and he kisses my cheek when we greet. It’s such a casual gesture, I cannot help being pleased. It’s the sort of small intimacy I’ve long desired.

We go to the library and begin our work as usual. After weeks spent cataloguing some of the drier parts of the Asgardian canon, today we start on Romance.

He settles down at his laptop while I fetch the first pile of books. These are fairly tame stories, and I consider sneaking something more erotic into the pile. But that would be better saved for later tonight.

Besides, someone has misshelved a title in the pile already. I can see a book that certainly doesn’t belong in Romance.

“Look at this,” I say, pulling it from the stack and handing it to Kit. “Someone has confused Natural History and Romance.”

He frowns at the book. “Something, bird, something?” What does the title mean?”

“A literal translation would be "ferocious bird beast". You would call it a dinosaur.”

“Dinosaur?” He blanches. “How old are these books?”

“Ancient, but not as old as Midgard’s dinosaurs. This is about ones on other planets in the Nine Realms.”

“But how?”

“The convergence Midgard witnessed a few years ago happens every five thousand years. They had plenty of time to cross over.”

“This is incredible. No one is going to believe this when I go back to Earth.” He flicks through the book, looking at the little raptors with their vibrant plumage. I’m tempted to make them fly but I know he’d rather it remained as it was written. Finally he puts it aside and picks up another. “What about this one?”

“Ah. That is a love story. It's about two Valkyries.”

His face lights up. “A queer love story? I'd like to read this.”

By queer, I assume he means that they are both women. When I was last looking for lovers on Midgard they didn't have any words that weren't considered shameful. Before that, however, no one thought anything of it.

“Wouldn't you prefer a love story about two men?”

“You have that?”

“Yes. That's never been a problem here. I’d estimate a quarter of the love stories on the shelf would be, as you say, queer.”

Now he’s beaming. “Honestly? I’m going to read them all! I could specialise in those, bring all the gay literature to a new audience. How many are there?”

“Queer ones? Across all genres I’d guess five hundred.”

“Five hundred! You don’t know what that will do to queer history on Earth. There’s little in the way of currently available texts.”

He kisses me again, but this time it’s a cheerful smacker on the lips. “Loki, this is the best news I’ve ever had! You must go through what we’ve already done with me and tell me which books are queer.”

“I will.”

“You’ve read them, haven’t you? I’ll need you to highlight the best ones. I’d like to study all of them but there’s only so much time and—”

He pauses abruptly.

“What?”

He shakes his head as if to clear it, then forces a smile. “It's nothing.”

Clearly it's not. “What's wrong?”

“Sometimes I forget where I am and what I'm doing here, that's all.”

He’s here to catalogue the works. He ought to get the first selection when it comes to reading them. “You can come back,” I promise. “You’re always welcome here.”

“No, that won't be possible.” He turns from me, busies himself with opening and closing a window on his laptop. “Coming here is like going to the moon. Lots of people will want a turn.”

“You could supervise them. Thor could make it a condition of their visiting. He’ll want you here. He trusts you.” He knows how I feel about Kit, too.

“No. There's another job waiting for me.”

“Better than this one?”

He closes his eyes, face a bitter mask. “Definitely not.”

“More important than this one?”

“I keep asking myself how much I could sacrifice to stay here. I don't think I can justify the cost.”

He has a life on Midguard, I’ve accepted that. But if he wants to stay here, there’s always something that can be done. “If you need money, I can provide it. If you have a child or an elderly relative they can come too. Whatever you ask, anything, I can make it happen. There’s nothing you and I can’t overcome. What do you need?”

He opens his eyes and looks at me again, letting silent tears fall when he does. He whispers, “I need your help.”


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Kit can have my help. I’ll do anything for him right now. I smile at him reassuringly, take his hand and pat it. “Whatever you need is yours. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Kit turns his face to the table, the ceiling, the window. Anywhere but at me. “I’m not who you think I am,” he says quietly. “I mean, I am Kit Wilson, I am from Oxford but...”

The pause seems to last forever, but I let him do everything in his own time. I love him. I don’t want him to be overwhelmed. “I am Kit Wilson,” he repeats firmly. “But I’m not just here to catalogue your library. I’m part of Hydra.”

Hydra. I know that name. I sit back, let go of Kit’s hand. “My brother speaks of Hydra often. They’re the Midgardian terrorists. They’re his enemy.”

Kit swallows heavily. “Yes.”

He’s good. There’s nothing in him that would make me guess his tears are false. He’s used me for weeks, of course, got under my skin. He is a professional, and I was his mark.

“Is that is why you’re interested in me?”

“At first it was. But—”

“Don’t,” I hiss. “And don’t think I’m going to help you, or that I’m going to show you the way back to Midgard.”

He tries to take my hand, but I snatch it away from him and stand. The library is empty, and I’ve no need to conceal my anger. I pace the floor, body taut, waiting for the eruption.

“We could install you here as king,” he pleads, sobs coming heavy now. “Please, Loki.”

All the care I’ve given him, all the worry I’ve had. I loved him. I _lied_ for him. If Thor finds out, I’ll lose everything. “You,” I say, letting my voice carry the weight of my disgust, “You have come here to ruin everything for me. I won’t let you. You’ll get no more help from me.”

“Please,” he begs. “You don’t understand. Let me explain.”

“No. I won’t hear it. I’ll never believe another word that comes out of your mouth. I’ll never speak to you, never think of you again.”

“Loki!” Kit slips from his chair, falls to his knees. It’s a pathetic display.

I leave him there, let him cry his false tears. I’m furious: at him for being what he is, at myself for falling for him. In my mind I play through discussions he must have had when they briefed him for this mission. I hear nameless, faceless men and women tell him I’m desperately lonely, that I will respond to his affection. I hear them sneering at me. I’d destroy them in a heartbeat.

I stalk through the palace. People usually move away when I’m near, but now they flinch as they see my face. I ignore them, too angry to speak.

I’ll hurt anyone who comes near me now. Hard, painful, physical hurt. I can’t allow myself to give in to the urge. Instead I walk, then run, to the training grounds, and when I’m there, I let it all go. I bellow, I scream. I set upon a punching bag, tearing it to shreds with my daggers. I smash the wooden frame that held it in place.

The guards watch me silently. I’m aware of them, but I ignore their stares, knowing one of them will be fetching Thor. But I rage until I’m emotionally exhausted if not physically, and I finally allow myself to collapse down onto the floor.

When my brother arrives, I’m staring up at the pretty blue sky wishing it was filled with fire. His large frame comes into view, blocking the light, and he looks down at me with undisguised concern.

He asks, “Is Christopher all right?”

This is the moment when I ought to tell him. But if I do, what will he think? He’ll think I’m weak and stupid at best. At worst, he’ll think I’ve not changed.

Perhaps I haven’t changed. I chose to lie for Kit. I put my desire for him above the needs of my people. Now I choose to keep his secret and protect myself.

“It’s over,” I say.

Thor cocks his head. “But he’s still alive, yes?”

“Very much alive.”

“Good. Well.” Thor extends his hand to me and helps me up from the floor. “Relationships come and go. That’s what I told Jane when I dumped her.”

“I thought you said it was a mutual dumping.”

“It was.”

“So was this.”

“Good, good.”

Thor pats me on the back and then hugs me. “On Midgard they say, ‘Plenty more fish in the sea.’ Plenty more scholars in Oxford too. I understand there’s a place called Cambridge full of them as well, so you can work your way through those if needs be.”

I nod, knowing I’ll get no better from Thor than that. He can be quite sweet, in his way, and I feel even guiltier about lying to him. Naturally I should take my negativity out on him, but I think I’d rather give it to Lopt.

Thor accompanies me back to my apartments and leaves me at the door with strict instructions to tell him immediately if I decide I need someone to sit up all night and drink wine with. He has a particularly potent batch, should I require it. He also offers me the address of a very discreet and not terribly discerning woman who lodges above one of the inns and tells me he has had a word with Strange. I may come and go freely from Midgard. He advises me to go and buy myself something called chocolate.

I’m glad when Thor’s gone. He wanted to stay, but the Avengers were assembling to discuss the Hydra threat on Midgard. I laughed bitterly when he told me, then suffered his chastisement. Midgardian are more important than my broken heart, apparently, and the sad fact is, it’s true.

My rage has subsided. Now I’m left with grief, but I won’t cry over Kit. Instead I save my few tears for the position I find myself in. I won’t go near him again, but I must watch him all the time now I know the truth and make sure he doesn’t attempt anything else.

I take to my bed, closing my eyes to search for Kit. He’s left the library, so next, I check his room and find him there, packing his bags in a desperate hurry. His face is even more pinched than average and his body trembles. I feel no sympathy for him or guilt that I might be the cause. I am not the cause. This is all him.

I wonder if he knows, if he understands now, what it is like to realise you are the architect of your own downfall. I wonder, too, if his feelings for me might have been in some way real. We’re the same after all, he and I. I flatter myself that he really could have cared for me.

But there’s little comfort in the thought. I’m a different man now, and he’s a villain. I didn’t throw off those shackles only to don them again for him.

When he’s packed everything up, he sits on the bed and waits for the guards who won’t come.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

My rage had turned to grief and then finally acceptance, but my heart still beat for Kit. I tried to suppress my feelings, and I despised him for what he did to me, but I loved him all the while. When I was awake I watched him, when I slept I dreamt of him; dreams of love and protection that never soured before I woke. I don’t know if he thought of me.

Kit has been busy. He has only seven days remaining on Asgard now and nothing more to catalogue. When I left him, numerous volunteers stepped into my place and helped him finished his work. Now he spends his time in the library reading a love story and making notes.

He has also been busy with one of the Einherjar. A few days after we split, I watched him visit the barracks. Kit looked at the duty roster before he made his choice. He picked a man who would be guarding Odin’s vault tonight—one who has a reputation for drinking.

They shared a smile; then a few words were exchanged. A few days later they arranged to meet at the inn.

I felt sick watching him. The better man in me wanted to warn the poor guard, tell him not to lose his heart to Midgard’s prettiest liar. But I couldn’t warn him. I hated him, purely because he had been chosen. Let the bastard suffer. It would take any suspicion off me.

So that evening I watched the two of them talk and laugh and smile together. Kit’s happiness ended at his lips. His eyes had lost the spark they’d gained when we were together. I took some cold comfort from that.

When the night was done, Kit dodged a kiss from his new suitor, just as he had when I first tried. The guard pressed him for something more, wouldn’t take no for an answer, and I thought I might have to intervene. Then Kit acquiesced, tugging him off, head rested glumly against his chest. Kit wasn’t hard, and there was no pleasure in it for him, though he’d picked a handsome enough man.

When Kit returned to his room, I expected tears. None came. His face was blank as he washed his hand over and over. Then he went to bed with the book I’d translated for him.

This went on for several weeks, his chosen man becoming pushier each night they spent together. Kit refused anything more than his hand until the last night. The guard reached for Kit’s cock, and Kit didn’t immediately say no. He let the guard rub him to full hardness before he withdrew.

Today they have agreed to spend the afternoon together before guard duty at the vault tonight. I fear there will be more between them physically as the time approaches. I worry that Kit longs for touch as much as I do, and if he gets it he might fall in love with the idiot, though beyond his fine looks the guard has no redeeming qualities.

There’s nothing I can do about it if Kit does. I must wait, suffer through all of it until he makes his final move, whatever that may be. I’m sure it will involve one of the weapons, but which one is anyone’s guess. I’ll have to take them all.

Getting into Odin’s vault isn’t easy. I can teleport, but not through the walls of the vault. My mother cast the protective wards, and they are too strong. If I want to enter, I need to take on Thor’s form and use the door.

The looks, the voice, those parts are easy. The mannerisms, however, might be a struggle. But I’ve spent a lifetime wishing I had what my brother does, and I’m sure I can do it.

I wait for him to enter the Bifrost and transform into his shape, disguising a bag as Mjolnir. Then I strut through the palace like I own the place.

Everyone greets me warmly and I extend them the same courtesy in return. I see the girls I met outside Thor’s chamber, all those weeks ago, and they blush and giggle as I pass by. “Hello, ladies,” I say, nodding my head to them. When I wink, one looks like she might swoon.

This is easier than I thought. Our people like Thor and will accept anything from me so long as I smile and am kind. It’s a bittersweet feeling, knowing that I’m the same man underneath. They’re shallow, but I m responsible for my reputation just as he is for his own. I do not blame my brother for this. Even I like Thor these days. He’s so good, so forgiving. He’s full of love—too full or he’d have found a wife by now. He’s a good brother. Only a small part of me still resents him.

Arriving at the door, I greet the guards with some friendly banter and a large flat stone in my hand, which I tell them possesses magical powers. It’s from Frigga’s garden so it may even be true. They step aside for me, and I walk in and help myself to the weaponry, filling my bag and replacing each piece with a simple copy. When I leave, I go with all the power in the known universe at my disposal. I’ve enough here to make Strange’s Time Stone obsolete.

Then I return to my room and hide the lot under my bed. It will be safe there until I replace it when Kit leaves.

I settle down to watch him again. I find him in his room, oils and a jug of wine by the side of the bed. Today is the day he’ll whore himself for a weapon he doesn’t even understand. I wish I could hate him for it, but I’ve whored myself for far less. That said, the access codes for the Grandmaster’s orgy ship did turn out to be useful in the end.

Someone knocks on his door. My stomach clenches, and with a novice’s shame, I lose my concentration, opening my eyes back in my room alone.

I ought to go back but I can’t. Kit is going to do it. He’s going to take the guard inside his body, payment for entrance to the vault.

I summon Lopt.

Lopt appears naked on my bed, his body ready in every way it needs to be. He looks down in surprise at his arousal and says “How is—?”

“He’s dead to me.” Right now I wish Kit were dead. “We’re through.”

Lopt nods slowly. I thought he would gloat, but he seems almost disappointed at my failure. “I knew it would be different after you’d been to bed together,” he says delicately. “You just needed to have him and then you could toss him away.”

“We didn’t sleep together.”

“Who said anything about sleeping?”

“There was nothing at all.” It’s painful to admit this, but I want Lopt to know. “He’d been lying to me.”

“About what?”

“He’s Hydra.”

“What’s that?”

“An enemy of Thor.”

Lopt’s mouth curves into a smile. “A friend of ours then.” He still resents Thor for the patronising, the teasing he hands out every day. Thor thinks he's playful; we think he’s tormenting us.

But I have learnt to be the bigger man finally. “We are at peace with Thor now,” I say firmly.

Lopt reaches down to his cock and strokes it leisurely. “If you say so.”

I let him go back into the ether, unable to stand the sight of him any longer. There’s no pleasure in anything he can offer me right now.

I’m a bubbling mass of contradictions. Self-loathing wars with hate for the universe, wars with misery. I’ve tried so hard to be better but it seems I’ll never escape my past, not while I summon him back whenever I’m lonely. I’ll never have a lover who is true—no one decent will come near me and who could blame them.

And I’ll live in Thor’s shadow all my life.

I’m exhausted with hating myself and everything around me. I need something, anything to cling to. For a short while, that had been Kit.

Instinctively I return to him, settling back on my bed and closing my eyes to watch him finally break my heart in two. He’s fully dressed, perched on his bed, a cup of wine in hand which he sips slowly, wincing slightly at the taste. The guard is next to him, guzzling a drink. He pours another, downs that, then lays back.

“I’ve got duty in fifteen minutes,” he says, punctuating the sentence with a burp. He’s drunk, and I wonder if Kit has doctored the wine. Asgardian’s like to drink, and from what I have learnt about this man he is no exception. If he’s had so much he’s insensible it’s unlikely to be his own doing.

“Have you?” Kit asks, sipping his drink. “Where are you tonight?”

“Odin’s vault. It’s the easiest watch there is. No one comes or goes. You could sleep through it if they let you.”

“Don’t do that,” Kit says seriously. “You’ll get in trouble.”

The guard sits up and wraps his arms around Kit, who freezes at the touch. “Can’t we talk a little more,” Kit says. “Wouldn’t you like another drink?” He peels one of the guard’s hands from his body, places his wine cup against it, then curls the guard’s fingers around the cup.

The guard drains it and puts it aside, returning his fingers to Kit’s flesh, hands slipping beneath Kit’s shirt. “Come on,” he murmurs. “You’ll be leaving soon. Don’t you want to know what it’s like with an Aesir?”

“I do,” Kit says. He closes his eyes and leans his head to the side, extending his neck to receive a kiss. When the guard’s lips touch his skin, he pulls away. “I’m sorry,” he says as he stands, wiping his palms on his jacket and jeans. “I can’t do this. I can’t go to bed with you.”

“Come on, sweet Christopher,” the guard says, in a wheedling attempt at cuteness.

“No. I don’t love you.”

This makes the guard laugh. “I don’t love you either.”

Kit step across the room to the door and rests his palm on the handle. “I thought I could do this but I can’t. You have to leave.”

“Why?”

“I’m in love with Loki.”

For a moment I thought I misheard him, but then the guard chuckles, “Loki? The prince of lies? No accounting for taste, I suppose.”

“Don’t talk about him like that. He’s a good man.”

“Tell that to the families of the men who were killed when he let the Jötunnn into Asgard.”

The man has played his trump. Kit opens the door and points through it. “Out,” he says. “You can take the wine with you.”

The guard goes, shambling out of the room. He’s a state now, and I wonder what will happen when he reaches his post, if he does reach it.

Kit slams the door behind him. He takes up his satchel and sits back down on the bed.

I watch him, wondering if this went as planned or not. Does he love me, or was I just an excuse? I can’t tell from his face.

I let my conscious drift over to the bed and stop beside him. I could control him now, use my powers to make him stay on the bed all night, never leave the room. He’d lose his chance at his plan, whatever that is. I could make him come to my room instead. I think I could probably persuade him to love me, to change for me if I used the right words.

I’ve used people as puppets before, but never for anything more than schemes and power grabs. I would still happily poke around in the mind of a man I want to manipulate into doing my bidding. Now I hesitate, wondering how to lead him and yet let him make his own decision.

Eventually I murmur, “Loki loves you too.” 

He sits a little straighter, inhales sharply. I watch him until it’s time for the guard’s shift, then follow him as he leaves the room, satchel slung over his shoulder. He walks with purpose, offering only a smile to the people he passes.

Outside the vault, the drunk guard is being carried by three others, two at his arms, one at his legs. Kit waits in the shadows, watching them. I’m behind him.

I drift to the guards and say to one, “Let’s get him back to the barracks.” He repeats my words.

To the others, I say, “That’s a good idea,” and they give my answer.

When they’ve gone, Kit slips out of the shadows and hurries up to the door. He pushes it cautiously, and it opens for him silently.

I follow, watch him walk amongst the weaponry. He doesn’t know what to choose. I don’t guide him. Aside from the eternal flame, which I could not easily conceal, they’re all fakes. It doesn’t matter what he chooses, but choose he does, picking the Tesseract, appearing to make the choice because it’s light and will fit in his satchel.

He’ll have to hide it now, unless he plans to take it back to Midgard through the back door. I wonder if he opened his eyes briefly on our return. I’d forgotten to blindfold him in the rush to leave after might fight with Strange. Perhaps he saw the rock. Perhaps he remembers the way.

Kit has seen me fly the boat too. It’s not hard. He could attempt this alone.

I follow him, assuming he’ll leave the palace and head down to the port. At some stage, I will have to return to my body and chase him, but for now, I wait. Better to get a clear picture of where to head than to run out now and lose him altogether.

He doesn’t leave, but he does hurry, going for the lift. I see him press the button for my floor and then I know exactly where he is going.

He’s looking for me.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

I return to my body. Why now? Why would he come to me for help? We’ve not spoken since he told me his truth and I gave him nothing but my anger in return. Why does he think I’ll want him now?

But I do want him. I’ve protected him, even as he began a scheme I could rightly claim no knowledge of. I could have argued I tried to give him the chance to do better, just as I have. I could have claimed he let me down.

My mind goes to a place I can’t come back from. I reminded Kit I loved him. Perhaps that means something after all.

A few minutes later he knocks on my door. I open it, and he falls into my arms and kisses me. In another moment I’d have pushed him away, but now I pull him to me, hungry for him more than the affection itself. Having him in my arms again, pressing him against my body, the taste of his mouth. If I had the power to make a moment last forever, I would choose this one.

I do not have that power. I gave that up when I tossed away Strange’s talisman. So after a few minutes more than I ought to have let the kiss continue, I push him away, moving to shut the door.

“What are you doing here?”

“Shh,” he says, reaching for me again. “Kiss me.”

I do, allowing myself another scant portion of happiness before I put space between us again. “You want something,” I say. Whatever I feel for Kit, I won’t let him make me his fool again.

“I want you.”

“You want something else.”

Kit looks away as if he’s deeply ashamed of himself. “I need to return to Earth again.”

So I was part of his plan all along. “You could have just asked,” I mutter, “You could have saved yourself the kiss. The answer is still no.”

“What about this then?” he asks, taking my hand. He brings it to his lap, helps me palm his hard cock, closing his eyes at the pressure.

I swallow heavily. I’m aroused too. “That is an urgent matter.”

“Please. I don’t know what’s going to happen after I leave this room and you’re the biggest regret I have.”

He looks at me, eyes large, pupils swollen with fear and desire. Slowly he leans against me again, and I let him. I know everything now, have had everything I wanted from him but this. I tell myself there’s still time. I could change his mind yet. He could be good, like me.

I lift him and he wraps his legs around my waist, arms around my neck as we kiss. I take him to the bed, toss him down upon it and then lay down beside him, my clothes disappearing as I do. I leave him dressed, decide to slowly unwrap the gift I’m giving myself now.

Our lips meet again. Kit holds my face, peppers kisses over my cheeks, my nose, my eyes. I undress him with one hand, propping myself up with the other so I am above him if only a little. He lets me take the bag from his shoulder and fling it carelessly to the floor. Then my fingers deftly push the buttons of his shirt through their holes, exposing his chest and the line of dark hair that trails down his stomach. Next, I turn to his jeans, popping the buttons that strain over his erection.

He sits up, slipping his shoulders from his jacket, then pushing down his jeans and underwear. His cock springs out, amply proportioned against his slender frame. His balls nestle tightly beneath, the dark velvet skin such a contrast to the rest of his pale body.

I ask, “Will you let me have you?”

He lies back down and nods at me. His breath is so short now, face so flushed. He touches himself unselfconsciously.

“I’ll loosen you,” I tell him, my magic working on his body as I speak, “I’ll make you slick.”

I know he can feel it. He gasps, raises his hips from the bed as if I’ve entered him. “Yes,” he says, “Do that.”

“I can do better.” I move between his legs, my cock nudging into the cleft of his arse. He spreads himself wide and I push into him, smooth and slow until I’m fully sheathed in his body. He winces at my size and I loosen him further, just until he can relax. Many men prefer a tight hole; I prefer a comfortable lover.

“Is that all right?” I ask.

“It’s the best it’s ever been.”

“It doesn’t hurt?”

He smiles shyly now, though I can see the sadness, the fear behind all this. “It always hurts a little at first,” he whispers. “I’ve never minded that.”

I move my hips slowly back and forth and lean over him, bearing my weight on my arms. In this position I can kiss him again, and he can tug himself, should he want to.

But now I’m inside he leaves his cock alone, lets his hands explore the ridges of muscle on my body, and my nipples. He rubs them to hardness, tweaks them and pinches them beneath his fingers.

I take it as an invitation to pay attention to his nipples, straightening up to give my hands access to them. His are already erect, and I brush my thumbs across them. He moans, so roll I them between my fingers and then, without warning, tug them. His hole clenches around me as he gasps and I know I’ve found something he likes.

I change my body, making my torso bend in ways it ought not to. I bring my head down, lap at his nipples, nibble them gently with my teeth. Looking up, I see his eyes fluttering open and closed, a look of pure debauchery on his face.

“My God,” he says.

I pull back and position my face above his again. When he opens his eyes, I tell him, “I am your god. Your only god. Your only man.”

“Yes,” Kit moans. “Yes, Loki.”

My name on his lips sends a thrill through me. It feels like possession, like I am not just his only god, but he is my only supplicant. His very devotion demands mine in return.

I thrust a little faster, harder, kiss him with urgency. He lies beneath me, legs spread impossibly wide, arms thrown out to his sides, hands gripping fistfuls of the sheets. Every snap of my hips makes his body writhe; every breath he takes, shallow, almost desperate, makes me dizzy. I move above him, watching him lose himself to the pleasure I’m giving him. I feel immensely powerful, right now, drunk on what I am able to achieve sexually.

It’s up to me now, what he likes. My decision whether or not he comes. I want to see him let go, watch his face contort with the agony of desire before he finally gets his release. But I want to hear my name again first.

I slow again, let him breathe. “Don’t stop,” he begs, arms coming up to circle my neck, pulling me down for another kiss. If I slow further, he’ll become even more desperate, but as my hips still and his face falls, I realise I want his approval more than to see his need. I start again, quickly building to a steady rhythm.

Kit’s eyes close as he takes on a blissful expression. For a single moment, he has no care in the world. He is ridiculously pretty, right now, the blush of exertion on his cheeks and a faint sheen of sweat on his face. His smile, wide and genuine, curving into an O as he reaches the edge.

I am so deeply in love with him. Even after the fear and the anger and the pain he caused me. Seeing him like this, knowing this is because of me, for me, I feel alive. I haven’t felt that way in too many years.

I want to come. I reach between our bodies, take hold of his cock. The merest brush of my fingers has him coming, saying my name over and over, while I fill him full of my seed.

When we are done, I try to move away from him. Kit clings to me, thanks me, tells me he couldn’t leave without seeing me again, without knowing what this was like. He tells me he is sorry, so sorry it has to be this way.

“What way?” I ask. “Tell me what you’ve done.”

He finally lets me go and goes to fetch his bag. He’s naked, spattered with sex still, but unselfconscious. He sits down next to me and opens the bag, showing me the copy I made of the Tesseract.

I feign surprise, widening my eyes. “Do you know what that is?”

“No. But it looks powerful.”

I reach into the bag, and he allows me to take it. “It’s called the Tesseract. I used it to rebuild Asgard after Ragnarok.”

“So it’s a tool rather than a weapon?” he asks, voice oddly hopeful.

“What it is depends on who is using it. It has been both in my hands.”

Kit stands, goes to his clothes and begins to dress, careless of his seed, which dribbles down his chest, and mine trickling down his thighs. “I have to go,” he says. “Someone will work out what I’ve done soon. I can’t stay here or you’ll be implicated too.”

We both know I’m in too deep already. There’s only one way I can save myself now. “You can leave,” I say. “But not with this.”

I hold up the fake Tesseract and make it dissolve. When he realises what is happening he is half dressed, wearing his jeans unbuttoned, no shirt. He dives towards my hand, grasping for the Tesseract as it turns to dust in his fingers.

“No,” he says, “No! Bring it back!”

“I can’t let you take this.”

“You have to!” Kit shoves me, unable to move my body. Trying to shake my shoulder, he says, “You don't understand. I need it. I have to give Hydra something.”

“No, you don’t. I've been down that path, and I’m far more powerful than any man in your organisation, yet I could not beat the Avengers with this. This isn’t good enough. Or do you plan to keep it for yourself?”

“Keep it?” He looks at me horrified. “I don't want to take over the fucking world.”

“What then?”

Kit winces, and I wonder what could be worse. He confesses, “They've got my boyfriend—Hydra have. I'm working for them because they're holding him captive.”

I think I would rather have heard that he is evil to his very core. Morals can be taught and changed, but this is a matter of the heart. I let my face give away nothing of the sickness I feel at the thought of him risking everything for the love of another man. I simply say, “You never mentioned a lover.”

Tears well in the corner of his eyes. “Please. They wanted you but you won’t go. I have to give them something; I have to try. They'll kill him if I fail.”

I want to say, let him die. Let Hydra do what they will to him because I cannot risk losing my entire world and watch Kit walk away with another man when it is over. Instead, I say, “Take me in and swap me for him. I can make my own escape.”


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

I return the Tesseract while Kit bathes. It only takes a few minutes, and soon there is a new copy back where it belongs, the real thing still hidden beneath my bed. I may need it if I’m to involve myself with Hydra.

When I return to my apartment, I find Kit sitting in the warm silky waters in my bathtub. I shed my clothes in an instant and climb in opposite him. He shifts closer to me but I move away, and he respects me the way I respected him in the past.

“I’m sorry,” he says, slinking back to where I’d found him.

I never realised before how empty the word sorry is. It cannot fix my mistakes, and it will never fix his. It means so little that I almost tell him so, but I know that some part of him must have forgiven me my faults. In time, I might forgive his.

“You should have told me from the start,” I say, allowing myself that one small chastisement.

“You wouldn't have helped me.”

He’s right, but I won’t admit that. “I'm helping you now, aren't I?”

“Yes.” We sit in silence a while, then he says, “I never loved John. I was going to split up with him before I came here. I thought I might meet someone—not you, just, some handsome god who would sweep me off my feet. It seems stupid now.”

“But you didn’t leave him.”

“I tried to but he was upset and wouldn’t accept it. He said he was in love with me, made me feel guilty. He made me promise to sleep on it, but I knew I didn’t love him. Two hours later Hydra contacted me and told me they had kidnapped him.”

“I see.” I don’t see. It sounds like a lie. The timing is too convenient.

“And I couldn't abandon him.”

“Course you couldn't.”

“After what he will have been through because of my job, what am I supposed to do? I can't say, oh, by the way, I still never want to see you again.”

It’s precisely what I’m hearing right now. “That would be cruel,” I mutter.

“So, you understand?”

“I wouldn't be helping you right now if I didn't.” I force my face to soften and almost manage a smile for him. The pretense isn’t as easy as it used to be and the result only disappoints him more.

“Loki, if things were different—”

“But they're not, are they?”

“No.”

“Loki, I—”

“Please, no more. Let's go save your lover.”

I stand up, letting the water sluice down my body. I’ve not washed but magic makes me clean, and I climb from the tub, dry and dress in a moment.

“Loki...” Kit says again quietly. He’s watching me, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.

I sigh. “What is it now?”

“John might be my partner for a while until he’s strong enough to make it on his own again. But he won't be my lover.”

“Don't make promises you'll be unable to keep when he kisses you in bed.”

“I won't let him.”

“You will. And that's all right. You'll be his.”

Kit stands too. His slender body glows softly in the golden light of my room, glistening with water. “I am my own man with my own heart. I'm not giving it to him.”

“That's not the part we were talking about,” I reply, glancing downward.

He flushes, leaving the water and wrapping himself in a towel. I let him dress at his own pace, watching him move, taking it all in. I think, I could fuck him again right now if he’d succumb to me, and when I openly watch him rub himself dry with the towel, he becomes half hard again. But what would be the point if I can’t possess him afterward?

Few words pass between us after we leave the palace. Dusk is falling as we walk through the streets and most of the Aesir are inside having their evening meal. The odd taverngoer passes, and the lamplighters are out doing their work, but the city is quiet now.

We could use the Bifrost, but Heimdall will watch us if we do. Far better to sneak out and have privacy when we’re on Midgard. My meeting with Hydra isn’t something anyone on Asgard needs to know about.

We arrive at the dock, and I help him into my skiff. The water is calm tonight, and we coast just above it until we are well away from the shore. When I pull the boat up higher, I say, “I’ll have to blindfold you again.”

“Okay.”

In an instant the silk band covers his eyes. He doesn’t flinch from the sudden transformation on his skin. He’s used to my magic now.

Kit’s calmer in all ways, and I reflect that, finally, all his burdens are out in the open. He had secrets as big as any I’ve had, and looking back on his behaviour, I see how heavy they weighed on him. But he’s not lighter now, not happy that he has my understanding and my help. The nerves are controlled, but there’s no relief, no joy.

I say, “It’s all right.” He turns his face toward my voice appearing surprised I’m making conversation. “We’re on our way to save him. He’ll be fine.”

Kit nods slowly. “Yes. But I keep thinking it's worse if they have you instead of John.”

Worse for him? Worse for me? I suspect, if anything, it’s worse for Midgard.

“Why?” I ask blithely. “I'm more powerful than all of them. There's nothing they can do to me, and I won’t work with them. Everything will be fine.”

“I know. And if something does happen, I can go to Thor.”

“You'll tell Thor nothing,” I snap, any hint of ease gone. It’s one thing to put myself in danger, but I cannot allow Kit to think it’s safe for him to do the same. He has played his part; he need do no more than that. “Thor will throw you in his dungeon, and you will die of boredom if you're lucky. If he puts you in a shared cell, your death won't be so pleasant, but it will be swift. If you are forced to speak to Thor, tell him I used you for cover. Contacting Hydra was my plan all along.”

“No. I can't say that.”

“You can and you will. He’ll believe it.” That’s the sickening truth of it. It will be far easier to persuade my brother I’m rotten than that I’m trying to help a man I’ll get nothing but heartache from in return.

Kit makes an effort to argue but he knows the truth of it as well as I do. “Please, Loki, Thor should know the truth. He’d be proud of you.”

“He’ll be furious I didn’t tell him the moment I found out what you’re doing here. We can tell him when we are in a position to take them down. Before then, I won't have the leverage to protect you.”

“But if they hurt you—”

“They won’t. And if I don’t go, they’ll hurt John.”

There’s nothing Kit can say to that. Instead, he stands, stumbling toward me in his blindfold. I catch him, and he wraps his arms around me.

Steering with one arm, I hold him steady with the other. Last time we were together like this, he kissed me, hands wandering over my body. Now there’s nothing, just the weight of him against me. I stand tall, straight, immovable—the hero he needs me to be.


	20. Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

We’re back on Midgard before Kit tells me the location of the Hydra facility.

“Greenwich Peninsula. It’s beneath the O2. They’ll take us inside.”

I’ve not visited that part of London before, but I can teleport there easily enough as it’s close by. I’ve jumped dimensions on a whim; this is simple. I’m not fond of teleportation, however. At longer distances the process leaves me drained, and I much prefer a portal for getting around.

But right now I can’t trust Kit not to tell Hydra about my abilities. If his lover John is injured, tortured or worse, Kit might give up information about me. It's better I keep that to myself for the time being.

Kit holds my hand as we transport, but I let go of him when we arrive. I’ve brought us down a minute’s walk away from the arena, and we walk together towards the dome. As with Asgard, it’s late in London and night has fallen. There’s plenty of light, however, and the muffled thump of music and cheering coming from the arena.

A man approaches us. He’s wearing a black t-shirt with a faded red print of a skull-headed sea monster on his chest. I’ve been to Midgard enough times in recent years to know that this is casual dress, and I suspect he has more to do with the unpleasant noise from the arena than Hydra.

However, Kit murmurs, “Here he comes.”

I look the man over again. He is tall, broadly built, square-chinned. Almost handsome, but not enough that you’d notice. He looks perfectly normal—the sort of man who’d melt into the background with ease. I notice his earpiece now, the microphone attached to the neck of his shirt. He is security, hiding in plain sight here at a venue where security would inevitably be required, given the volume of people the dome must currently house.

“Gentlemen,” he says, a broad grin on his face. “We’ve been expecting you.”

He escorts us into the dome and through a door marked PRIVATE to a small lobby with a single lift door. A piece of paper taped over the call button says DISCONNECTED.

The security man lifts the paper and presses the button, smoothing it back down into place afterward. I chuckle to myself as I watch him, and he asks, “Something funny, Mr. Laufeyson?”

It annoys me that he knows my name—what he assumes it to be at any rate—yet I don’t know his. There’s a power imbalance there, and yet, I must remember I am Loki of Asgard, and he is no one. It will always be that way. Only now, feeling threatened on Kit’s behalf, could I worry about such simple things.

“I’ve heard your organisation is a threat to the stability of Midgard,” I say conversationally. “This facility doesn’t lend much credence to that.”

The security man shrugs. “Operating in central London, sacrifices must be made. I can assure you that, despite the surroundings, this is a state of the art facility.”

The lift opens and, from that perspective, he’s not wrong. It spreads out well beyond the door frame and could easily hold fifty men with weaponry. A sign on the wall inside reads MAXIMUM LOAD 30 TONNES.

I look around and nod, genuinely impressed by the scope of it. “Not bad,” I say, inspecting myself in a mirror as the lift begins its descent into the bowels of the city.

Kit is behind me, visibly nervous. I make eye contact with him via the lift’s mirror and ask, “Are you all right?”

“Claustrophobia,” he says. “I don’t like confined spaces.”

I know it’s a lie, of course, but I note the way the guard smiles slightly, as if he knows something I don’t.

When we alight, we’re in a brilliantly lit, modern warren of corridors. They feel clinical, like a Midgardian hospital, or one of their sterile labs—I saw one once at Stark Tower—but I suspect they are merely featureless to confuse those who shouldn’t be here.

They do not work on me. I count my steps, marking the turns in the corridors in my mind. Left 23, right 14, left 19, left, 29, left... I glance to the right as we walk and I find we cross the first corridor so I start over. This place isn’t anywhere near as large as he wants us to think, and if I followed my footsteps, it would let any guards get ahead of me.

“Are we lost?” I ask. “That’s the lift we came in on.”

The guard points to his earpiece, unfazed. “A change of orders where I’m to take you, that’s all.”

We round a corner, and he stops at one of the many unmarked doors. “This is the library,” he says, “You can wait here.”

He opens the door to a dark, wood panelled room filled with old books and large leather armchairs. By Midgard’s standards it might be considered elegant, but I am used to the golden, light-filled library of Asgard. I wander inside, looking around me like I’ve entered a prison cell.

“Help yourself to a drink,” the guard said, pointing to a small table with a crystal decanter and two glasses on it.

“Why not?” I take a glass and ask, “Kit?”

“Not you,” the guard says to him. “You need to come with me. Boss wants to see you.”

It’s expected that Kit will check in, but I don’t want them to think that’s acceptable to me. Job done, they might decide to get rid of both Kit and John.

“We stay together,” I say. “I want to keep my eyes on him.”

The security guard swallows heavily but gives me the sort of big reassuring smile I’ve been fobbing people off with for centuries. “That’s not possible. Dr. Wilson must report to his team leader, but you are free to relax here until he returns. The chief will be along to talk to you shortly.”

“Kit?” I ask. If he refuses to leave me, I’ll back him up.

He forces a smile. “It’s okay. It’s my job. No one’s going to do anything to me. Don’t be so jealous.”

“Good. Because if they so much as touch you, this facility will be rubble when I leave.”

The guard chuckles, as if I’m offering him an empty threat. He would seem confident to a casual observer, but I can see the telltale signs of fear in the slight tense of his shoulders and set of his jaw. He says, “Directly above us are twenty-thousand people attending a Katy Perry concert.”

“Do you honestly think I care about them?”

They go, and I take a seat, closing my eyes and leaving my body. I catch up with them in the corridor, follow them, counting steps and noting directions again for the sheer hell of it. It’s another roundabout route, but it doesn’t matter this time. I could teleport to Kit in a heartbeat, wherever he is, I’m so close to him now.

Eventually they enter another unremarkable door and Kit gasps, dashing through it. I hesitate but then enter too, finding him wrapped in the arms of a man at least a decade older than him, if not fifteen years, by Midgardian aging. He has greying hair, but he’s handsome, and seems well looked after for a man who has been in captivity underground for six weeks. His clothes are smart and clean—a well-pressed shirt and expensive trousers—his skin has a healthy tan, and his body is toned.

Somehow I’d not expected John to look like that, or imagined that they’d be meeting in an interrogation room.

“Thank God you're here,” he says, clasping Kit to him. Kit holds on tight to him, choking back sobs of relief. John wipes the tears from Kit’s cheek and bends to his lips but Kit ducks, burying his face in John’s chest.

“No kiss?”

He tries again, but Kit is more forceful this time and pushes him away, putting a chair between them now. “Stop it John. How can you think about that now?”

John steps back, voice hardening in frustration. “I’ve been frightened. I’ve missed you. This place is driving me crazy. I didn’t know if you’d risk anything for me. Not after the last time.”

“I’ve put my life on the line for you. I worried about you. Now, come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Kit turns to the door and finds it shut. He runs for it, yanking hard on the handle. It’s locked.

“No!” he shouts, banging on the door. “Loki!”

I’m tempted to go to him, but the angle I’m standing at affords me a look at John and there’s something in his eyes, something familiar in his expression. I don’t trust him, and I don’t trust myself in his presence unless it’s absolutely necessary.

John sits down at the interrogation table and waits for Kit to stop fussing. He doesn’t ask who I am, and though I’m notorious, I’m surprised he wouldn’t be curious as to why his lover, exlover, whatever Kit might be, is shouting my name. He says, “I’m sorry, Kit. They've got another mission for you.”

Kit crumples against the door, broken. I wish I’d gone to him. My every sense is still telling me to wait but he called for me, and I didn’t come. The guilt feels heavier than Mjolnir, heavier than the thousands of deaths I’ve caused over as many years.

“I can't,” Kit whispers. “I can’t do it.”

“You must. They'll kill me if you don't.”

“They won't.”

“They will. You don’t know what these people are like. They will stop at nothing. Please.”

Kit’s head is in his hands. He runs his fingers through his hair, pulling handfuls of it. “If we say yes they’ll keep pushing and you’ll be here indefinitely. We have to go now. We can get out. Loki can get us out.”

“I’d rather live if it’s all the same to you. Loki is a maniac. I’m not going anywhere with him.”

The words don’t hurt, not from John. It smarts when Kit doesn’t correct him, merely says, “You’ve got more chance out there with him than in here.”

“Will he take me to Asgard?”

Kit hesitates, and I whisper to him, “No. Never.”

He says to John, “I don’t think so. Thor wouldn’t allow it.”

It’s a good addition. It’s useful now to let everyone think I’m under Thor’s thumb, though in other circumstances I’d hate it. They’ll now think they have a bargaining chip.

John leaves his seat and goes to sit on the floor next to Kit, putting an arm around his shoulder. “You’re working for Hydra now so they won’t hurt me. You can come to see me any time here. It doesn’t have to be so bad, does it?”

Kit shrugs him off and stands up. He starts banging on the door again as he looks down at John. “What have they done to you? Listen to what you’re saying, that’s crazy.”

“I know. But it’s the only way I’m getting through right now. All I can think about is that at least I’ll be able to see you.”

He wouldn’t if I had anything to do with it.

But I’m a better man than that. “Say you will,” I whisper, and Kit agrees.

John gets up and hugs him. He attempts another kiss and Kit eventually accepts a slow peck on the lips, but nothing deeper.

Satisfied I’ll need to interrupt nothing, I return my spirit to my body and stand from my chair. They locked Kit in, so I try my own door. It opens quickly and easily, and I look out into the empty corridor but remain in the library, leaning in the doorway.

“Kit? Must I wait forever?” I call.

There’s no response, so I return to my chair, leaving the door open.

Somewhere in this building, someone will be watching me, using whatever technology Midgard has. I pour two drinks and feign partaking, making the liquid evaporate before it touches my lips.

“Kit?” I bellow.

Finally I hear steps in the corridor. A drink in each hand, I stand and walk to greet whoever has come to meet me.

When I see who is hurrying up the corridor towards me, I smile.


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

John smoothes down his hair as he approaches. He’s added a tie and jacket to the clothes he wore with Kit, and now he’s a pure professional.

“It's a pleasure to meet you at last Mr. Laufeyson,” he says as he stops in front of me, holding out his hand.

I look down at it pointedly, then give it a limp shake. “I'd like to say the same, but I've no idea who you are.”

“I'm Jonathan Edbury, section leader of this Hydra facility.”

“That still means nothing to me. Do they let you go the national committee meetings or just the regional ones?”

He doesn’t answer the question—he’s probably trained to give nothing away. But that’s only a clever strategy when you want someone to know you're being evasive, as if you have something worth hiding, even if you don’t.

“Please, take a seat Mr. Laufeyson. I have a proposition to discuss with you.”

I hand him the tumbler of drink and shrug, leading us over to the leather armchairs and settling back into position. “You have until Kit returns. Make it quick.”

John smiles at me. I wonder where Kit is but I don’t ask. John wouldn’t have gone through the pretence of being the frightened boyfriend if he hadn’t intended to keep Kit safe. I suspect he’s still locked in the interrogation room.

“Kit, Kit, Kit,” he murmurs. “Handsome isn’t he? He’s green for an agent, a little skittish as you surely noticed, but his charm is undeniable.”

I say nothing.

He continues, “I was concerned when he messaged us to say you had turned over a new leaf. Then, just a few weeks later, I switched on the news and saw you fighting with Stephen Strange in Trafalgar Square.”

“What would that have to do with you?”

“I realised you might still be amenable to my offer after all.”

I snort, then murmur my apologies for being so rude, thereby doubling the insult. “That's rather premature. I'm here because Kit invited me. I'm not here because I have any desire to deal with Hydra, whatever your organisation might be.”

“But you like Kit? My staff tell me you threatened to destroy the place if we harm him.” He says it with a serene smile as if he knows it’s all dramatics.

“That was no threat. I like what Kit might do for me. He will bring my story back to Midgard. He will secure my redemption. Then I will be free to live as a god again, enjoying all the privileges that entails.”

“So why fight Strange?”

That’s the first intelligent thing John has asked. He goes up a little in my estimation, but not enough to worry me. “Because Strange is a whoreson and when my story is told, everyone will know why.”

John doesn’t ask me to elaborate, merely nods. Strange might be known for being a whoreson, I neither know nor care. For now, it is enough to say it and have it accepted if not believed.

Leaning forward, John makes his offer. “What if we could provide you similar status without having to curb your darker natures? What if we could let you have your kingdom and rule it?”

“Go on.”

“You have power; we have numbers. If you were to provide us with the means to control the Earth, we could help you take Asgard. Wouldn't you like that crown?”

It's obvious John knows nothing of what has gone on there the last few years. Kit hasn't revealed all our secrets, only those pertinent to their request—to get me.

“Who will wear Midgard's?” I ask, though I am well aware the planet currently has many rulers and that is unlikely to change. Even when I made my bid for Midgard I did not expect to control the entire planet alone. That was never my intention.

“Who knows?” John says. “So?”

I pause only briefly, as if I’ve considered the offer but quickly seen the inherent flaws. “You've sought me out. An alliance between us is obviously more advantageous to you than to me.”

“I can assure you—“

“I'm sure you can.” I stand, pretend to drain my glass and put it down on a side table. “For now, I'll make my own enquiries about your organisation and, if I like what I find, I will return to you at my leisure with my own set of demands.”

“Very good.” John puts his glass aside and stands too, seeing me to the door. “Oh, what will you tell Thor about Kit's disappearance?”

Given that I’ve threatened to level his facility and kill tens of thousands of people, John must be desperate if this is his trump card.

“If it’s a display of strength you want, you’ll regret prompting it here,” I say coldly. Then I laugh, as if he’s just thrown away his only weapon. “You don't intend to waste such a valuable asset by not returning him to his work, do you? If you think the boy is a bargaining chip then so be it, but as he is your eyes and ears on my planet, and his safety and success determines the future of other visits to my world, I'd say that's a very big gamble, especially when I can kill the lot of you and have him all to myself.”

“What if he wants to stay here?”

“He won’t stay. He likes me too much, but you keep him here if that’s really what he wants. I'll tell Thor the truth—that the lad is a Hydra spy. It will do a lot for my reputation at home if not here, and I can always wait for another opportunity to return to Midgard as ruler. I’m immortal, you know. For the time being, I’d be satisfied guaranteeing you’ll never get back into Asgard.”

“A nice bluff, but liars are good at spotting liars.”

I certainly am. “Oh, it's no bluff. You know what sort of man I am, or I wouldn't be here. And now I know what sort of organisation you are—short-sighted.”

John narrows his eyes. “You really want that boy, don't you?”

“Apparently more than you want my power, my skills, and knowledge of my realm. Which of us is the bigger fool?” This time I don’t apologise for my rudeness.

“Fine,” John says. “Have him.”

“I already have. And he was just sublime.”

John’s grin is fixed. I wonder if Kit meant anything to him at all, but then I wonder how he could not. It’s lonely when you’re walking the path of a villain. You can’t trust your friends, let alone your enemies. Kit’s inherent decency is attractive beyond measure.

John escorts me to the lift and leaves before Kit returns. Watching him walk away, I know I’ve won this round, but also that I have to come back for another.

Kit is perfectly composed when he arrives, back straight, eyes betraying nothing of the tears he shed in that interrogation room. He looks like a professional. I’m proud of him, though I know how tough this must be for him. I’ll not let him suffer for long and make up my mind to lead him gently to the truth.

Back on the surface, the concertgoers are leaving. I take Kit’s hand and pull him into the crowd, teleporting us out moments later.

We appear in the Royal Suite in The Lansborough hotel. I’ve found in the past that the rooms are always occupied, and even a threat of violence won’t make the staff turn out wealthy guests, but I’ve brought us to one of the bedrooms which is fortunately empty at this time.

I’m behind Kit in an instant, hand covering his mouth. “Hush,” I whisper into his ear. “Take your clothes off.”

I let him go, and he does as requested, though he gives me a worried look. If he thinks I mean to have him he’s wrong, but I don’t like the fear in his eyes at the thought of it.

“Trackers,” I explain. “They’d be fools not to plant one on us, and I’d be a fool to leave it anywhere other than a Royal Suite. If only I could see their faces when they break into the hotel looking for us or the portal.”

I shed my clothes too, replacing them instantly with my Asgardian wear, then do the same for him, creating an identical set to his original dress. I shove the discarded clothes underneath the bed and take hold of him again. “Close your eyes, I whisper.” When he does, I teleport us out, back to the portal.

Soon we are back in Asgard. “You can open your eyes,” I say, and he does, finding himself in the cave. It’s the first time he’s seen it. He looks around the dark, dusty space as if he expected something more.

“Where are we?”

“Asgard. I thought you might need a moment to collect your thoughts before we return to the palace.”

He nods, steps back and leans himself against the wall. It would be cold and damp, but I focus my energy on it, making it dry and warm for him. He doesn’t notice my efforts.

“Kit, are you all right?”

“No.” He doesn’t elaborate, and I resist the urge to point out he might as well tell me. It will come in time. He can tell me nothing now that I don’t already know.

Part of me is glad of his silence. Heimdallr may well have his eyes our way. Perhaps Kit’s conscious of that too. He knows the value of secrets.

Eventually I blindfold him, and we travel back to the palace. There’s nothing to be done tonight, but tomorrow I’ll offer to show John to Kit and that will reveal the truth. Tonight I make do with taking him to his room and kissing his hand as I say goodnight on his balcony.

“Our return from Midgard has probably attracted Heimdall’s attention. I won’t stay the night when we’ve no privacy, but I’ll come to you in the morning.” When Kit looks up at me with big sad eyes, I add, “I’ll bring you something wonderful, I promise. Have hope.”

His eyes widen. I wonder if he thinks I’ll help him complete his next task, whatever that may be. But I remember his words to John. He won’t want to be too successful at whatever they give him. He must be hoping for an escape plan.


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty Two

The morning brings Kit to my door before I’m ready to go to his. He looks as if he has slept little, his eyes red-rimmed, baggy below, but there is a fire in him, and I’m not surprised he’s eager enough to come before I call on him.

“I couldn’t wait,” he says as I let him into the room. I’m barely dressed, clad in only the thin green linen trousers I wore to bed, but I don’t bother to use my magic and make myself presentable. I want to know if he still finds me desirable after seeing John again, and he does glance me over, eyes lingering on the smooth white skin of my stomach. It’s not quite the greeting I’d received from him at my door yesterday, but he’s not so desperate this time.

He takes a seat on my chaise and looks up at me hopefully. “What are we going to do?”

I’m going to break your heart, I think. But I’m just the messenger. “Right now we are going to check on John,” I say. “Now we know where he is you can see him whenever you want.”

Kit’s hope crumbles, his face crumpling in disappointment. “We can’t go back there now. Hydra want the Tesseract. I can’t arrive without it.”

Of course they’d ask for that. They know of nothing, but it and my spear and their imagination cannot stretch to anything else. Mortals are such simple people.

“There's another way,” I promise.

“How? If I return empty-handed what do you think they’ll do to him?”

“Take my hand.”

He doesn’t hesitate, though it cannot be evident to him how this will help.

“Close your eyes,” I murmur, letting my own fall shut too.

We leave our bodies, floating out and away. I rarely bother to look back at myself but this time I turn so Kit can see us together, him sat, I stood in front of him, our hands clasped. His spirit clings to mine, but he’s exhilarated, not frightened.

“How are you doing this? We’re not dead, are we?”

I chuckle, pleased to see him in a better mood again. “I believe on Midgard this is called astral projection. It’s the simplest form of sorcery. With enough time, I could teach you to do it.”

“I’d like that.”

“Good. Shall we go see John?”

Kit nods, and I carry our souls away. It’s easier to travel between the dimensions when there’s nothing but spirit to send, and the room fades around us, the universe bending to my will. I decide to take him via the scenic route.

We enter the Quantum Realm. There’s life here—there’s life everywhere if you know where to look for it—but it’s a place unlike anything on the physical plane. It’s beautiful and bewildering, a little like Kit. I let him look around as we travel, but today is not the time for visiting the hidden worlds of the Quantum Realm. I navigate to Sub-Atomica and Homeworld just so that we can pass them by.

Space and time are meaningless in the Quantum Realm. At this level, the fabric of the universe is so malleable that, with my powers, I need only think of a location to find myself there. Soon my mind drifts to Midgard, and to the labyrinthine base below the O2 in London. Our spirits materialise in the base, remaining on the astral plane. Kit gasps and lets go of me, going to try a door instead. He can’t touch it, he hasn’t the ability to focus on it, force it to do as he wishes, but he’s more surprised to find he can move straight through it.

“What the hell?” He looks down at his hand, which appears solid to him purely because I want it to. We walk too, move as if we are anchored to the floor below by gravity, just as our real forms would be. I could even make us visible to others if I wanted to.

I don’t want to.

There are steps in the corridor. I heard them the moment we arrived; now it’s Kit’s turn.

“Someone's coming!” he hisses, darting about for somewhere to hide. I note he doesn’t try to move through the walls or doors despite the fact the corridor is empty. No matter. This all takes some getting used to.

I catch hold of him as he passes me, clasping his hands in mine. “They can't see or hear you,” I murmur, dropping my voice only to comfort him.

I can tell he’s still tense by the way his shoulders bunch around his neck and the painful grip on my hands he gives me in return, but he trusts me yet again. As a group of besuited men round the corner, he stares into my eyes, and I know this all feels impossible to him. His eyes are wide, wild, his fear and his excitement writ plain across every part of him.

Adrenaline is a fascinating hormone. It’s addictive, the euphoric sensation of having done something remarkable. You need to do more, become more extreme even, to get the same high. I do extraordinary things before breakfast, this would be nothing to me were it not for Kit’s presence by my side. He may marvel at what I can do with sorcery, I marvel at the feel of his hands in mine and my ability to amaze him even in his darkest moments of despair. It’s a useful talent. This will be a dark one.

I turn to the approaching men and watch them stride past purposefully. At the end of the corridor, a pair of double doors open and they step inside.

It’s a conference room. As the men move around the table in the center, I see John at the head and look to Kit who is staring at him even as the door closes. He takes off, running down the corridor towards the doors and barrelling through them. I chase him, shouting, “Kit? Kit, what is it? Tearing through the door into the room, I find them all sat talking casually, the meeting not yet in session. I stop and look around, then point to John and say, “I met with him.”

Kit is staring at him. I doubt he’ll be able to speak, but he rallies. “You can't have done. That’s John.”

“He wanted me to join Hydra.”

“No,” Kit says softly. “No.”

I move to stand behind Kit, put my hands on his shoulders to steady his spirit. “I thought you said he was captive.”

“He was.”

“It looks to me like he's in charge.”

John looks around the table at his colleagues. “Are we ready to begin, gentlemen?”

One of them says, “Before we discuss the general news, I hear Loki Laufeyson visited.”

“He did indeed. I’ve made him our offer and he is considering it.”

“What are his demands?”

“He’s made none yet. But he is quite taken with a local agent I recruited, Kit Wilson. I’ve offered Loki Kit as a sweetener. Hopefully it’ll help bring him over to our side.”

I let go of Kit, wondering what he must think of me.

“Take me back,” he says. “Take me back now.”

We don’t travel back, merely wake in our bodies as I let the connection sever.

“Kit?” I’m worried about him, about us.

He keeps his eyes closed, squeezes them shut even tighter. He pulls his hand away from me. “Lying fucking asshole, fucking cunt, fucking—”

“I’ve been called worse,” I say, taking a seat next to him.

“Not you. John.”

In my shame, I’ve forgotten that he is the one Kit will be angry at. For a moment it had become about me: me shattering his world, me hiding the offer John made. I’ve spent so long shouldering blame that it feels alien to give it up to someone else.

“Don’t think about him. You need never think about him ever again.”

“How can I? He’s made me his puppet. I thought he was the one at threat, but now I know it’ll be me.”

“I’ll protect you.”

“How?” Kit stands up, runs his hands through his hair, then pats his pockets as he looks for his silver cigarette case. “I’m due to return to Earth in a week.”

He’s not going back to Midgard until I’ve killed John and every last one of the operatives working at the Hydra facility. “If you leave, I’ll bring you straight back here. Your safety is more important right now.”

“But I can’t just disappear. Coming to Asgard is a huge event on Earth. I’m to be interviewed by the press, I’m to report to my government, and then I’ve got to return to the college. They’ll all notice pretty quickly if I’m gone.”

Kit locates the cigarettes in his back pocket and goes out onto the balcony to smoke. I note he’s not got his light out and so I follow and offer a flame in my hand again. This time he blows it out when he’s done and lets me bring my hand to his cheek.

I smooth the skin beneath my fingers, refreshing it. Kit is gorgeous still, he has no cosmetic need of my ministrations, but I can see he’s strained and tired. There’s no need for it to show.

“I could make a copy of you to send back to Midgard in your place.”

“Like yours you mean?” I nod, and he takes a long draw on his cigarette. When he finally releases the smoke, he says, “I don’t want that.”

“Then you must stay longer. There’s no other option.”

“If only.” He steps to the edge of the balcony, leaning against the carved stone wall. “I have to go back and answer a whole bunch of questions, not just about this place. I was seen with you when you fought Strange. They’ve emailed me to ask what the bloody hell you’re up to.”

So I’m not the only one quick to blame myself, though I feel no animosity now from Kit over the fight with Strange. Oddly, I remember it as a rather good night.

“What did you say?”

“The truth. I ran out of cigarettes; you took me to buy more. Strange attacked us.”

“Did they believe you?”

“Of course not. Then I get an email saying Thor has sorted it all out.”

My brother does have his uses and sorting out diplomatic problems is one of them. “No one can ever say no to him. He can arrange for you to stay longer. I’ll speak to him. When we’ve secured your safety we will deal with Hydra.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Kill every last one of them, starting with John Edbury.”

Kit’s lip wobbles. He takes another drag on the cigarette to steady himself. “You can’t do that,” he says, going through the motions of objection but focusing his attention on the city below us.

“Watch me.”

Does Kit want John dead as much as I want to kill the bastard? Maybe in this moment he does, but even now he won’t admit it. “You’re as bad as them,” he says.

“So is my brother and all Midgard’s little Avengers.” I sound bitter. I am bitter. There’s such a fine line between heroism and villainy. They can slay a thousand men and maintain a wholesome reputation; I try to claim what many would consider my birthright and I’m a monster. “They’ve more blood on their hands than you can imagine, but it’s all right when you’re killing the bad guys, isn’t it?”

Kit blanches, looks at me like he no longer knows who I am. “I’ve just spent the best part of six weeks trying to keep John alive. Knowing he lied to me doesn’t mean I want to see him dead. I hate him, but he deserves to be sent to trial and then put in prison for a very long time. Where I come from we don’t have capital punishment, not even for the very worst crimes.”

“What would you have me do? I can’t bring him to trial.”

Kit shrugs. “Maybe you can’t. But Thor can.”


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty Three

It’s always Thor everyone runs to when they have a problem, always Thor who saves the day. Even before my fall I was never allowed to be the hero of the hour. He’d always swoop in and sort out whatever mess anyone had made. On the one occasion I got a turn, I ended up on the receiving end of some erotic horseplay, and the only reason I was involved was that the Aesir had judged it was my fault a Jötunn had come to Asgard in the first place.

Don’t get me wrong, I know when a job is best for my brother, and I am grateful he speaks to Midgard on my behalf. But I can wield my daggers with every bit as much skill as he can toss Mjolnir.

“We’re in no position to tell Thor what is going on,” I tell Kit, oddly grateful that for once I might get to be the hero. “He won’t trust either of us when he finds out I visited Hydra and you work for them.”

“But what will you say to him when you ask if I can stay?”

I’m going to tell Thor I am in love with Kit but I can hardly admit that now, not when he’s reeling from the betrayal of his last lover. It’s not the right time.

“Thor knows I’ve become attached to you. He won’t need further explanation than that.”

Kit leans back against the balcony and I step in front of him, placing my body close enough to his that we touch, though I put no physical pressure on him. He raises his hand and sets it on the leather covering my chest but doesn’t push me away.

I say, “Tell me everything about John Edbury. Maybe I can find out who he is and expose his cover to Shield. I don’t have to hurt him.”

Kit takes my hand and twists around to look over the balcony again. He brings my arm around his waist, pulling me close behind him now. I wrap both arms around him, and he sighs softly. “Don’t be jealous,” he murmurs. “John appeared in my life shortly before I was approached to come to Asgard. He sat next to me in a cafe and we started to talk. He asked for my number, and I gave it to him because he was cute and he told me I was too. He was so handsome and charming. I could hardly say no. We went out for a drink that night, he ended up back at mine, and then...”

I picture them naked together and feel the spark of envy involuntarily. I don’t mind that Kit had other lovers but details make me uncomfortable. Still, I asked for this, and I want to know.

“John always called me his boyfriend, right from the moment I'd finished sucking his dick. But I knew he wasn't the one. He told me he wasn’t out and he’d never talk about his family or friends or job. He said it made him sad to think about it when he wanted nothing but the pleasure of being with me. I let it go on for a few months, because I liked him, even if I didn't love him. I was sympathetic. But I was never going to be with a man who had to hide his love for me. And I was coming here for six weeks, maybe longer, I hoped. I didn't want to cheat on him if some handsome Viking looked my way. So I broke up with him. I received the message Hydra had kidnapped him two hours later.”

“How convenient,” I mutter, pulling Kit a little tighter against me. He bends his head to the side, offering me his neck, and I lean into it, breathing in the scent of him.

“I've felt awful about John. I thought he'd be terrified and I'd be leaving him without any hope. I made them promise to tell him about every communication I sent. God, I was such a fool.”

Abruptly he shifts, and I let go so he can step away from me. He looks so ashamed and yet he has done nothing wrong. His problems seem so simple compared to mine.

“You were a man who didn't know he was being used. And why would you? Your life was turning upside down. You were about to go to an alien world. You had no reason to suspect he was related to any of that.”

“It doesn’t make me feel any less stupid. I should have gone to the police or told someone. Instead I came here and did what they’d asked.”

Hydra had asked him to get close to me. I can’t say I’m sorry about that, and I won’t ask if he is. I don’t want to be associated with any sadness he feels.

He finishes his cigarette and I take it, turning it to dust and making the dust disappear. I used to think I could wipe things from existence with my magic. Now I think they end up on Sakaar. I’d rather send dust than anything the Grandmaster might find useful.

Kit’s already looking for another cigarette. “Can I stay with you today?” he asks. “I don’t want to go to the library and have to talk to anyone.”

“If you want to.”

“I do.”

“Then I’d be glad of the company, even if we don’t talk much.”

A day together requires supplies. I leave him lying on my bed and go to fetch books from the library and simple fare from the kitchen. From his room I steal his tea and cigarettes, seeing he is now running low on the drink now he has only days left. Another trip to Midgard will be required if he is to stay. I should fetch him all manner of comforts. I want him to feel cared for. That’s what I would want if I were him.

Each thing I select is sent back to my room in an instant, but I keep hold of the small box of tea, hoping to make a request with it. Errands run, I go looking for my brother.

I find Thor in a tavern with his idiot friends: Hogun, Fandral and Volstagg. The Whoresons Three. It’s not long past breakfast and already they are drinking wine and getting deep into their cups.

Their conversation is as ridiculous as their drinking hour. They’re obnoxiously loud and talking about pig racing.

“Eric Longhorn’s boar can outrun any other pig on Asgard,” Fandral says, pointing his sword at Hogun as if it were merely his finger. He’s slurring slightly. As the smallest of the three, he always seems to be drunk first.

Hogun shoves the sword away by the blade without a care for his linen-wrapped fingers. “That boar couldn’t catch a three-legged gilt. Don’t waste your money. I’m betting on Siv.” He points over his shoulder at a caged barrow in the middle of the room. “He won last year; he’ll win again.”

“He still had his balls last year,” Volstagg says. “The smart money is on Longhorn’s boar.”

“The smart money is in your pocket,” Thor says. He can’t have drunk as much as the others, and I suspect he spent the morning dealing with royal matters before coming to meet his friends, who no doubt had started drinking heavily with their breakfast.

“Gentlemen,” I say, stepping up to their table. “Can I drag my brother away from this fascinating conversation for a few minutes?”

“No!” the three of them shout, scrabbling to grab Thor and pull him back down to the table as he tries to rise.

Fandral stands behind Thor and puts his hands on his shoulders, holding him down, though Thor could easily shrug him off if he wanted to.

“Thor isn’t going anywhere,” Fandral says, fixing me with a wonky stare. “Not until he chooses a pig.”

Thor chuckles, and I give them both a withering look. “Pick Volstagg.”

Hogun and Fandral fall about laughing, allowing Thor to stand. He’s trying not to smile at my quip—solidarity with Volstagg, of course. I’ve had it come my way when his friends have been less than kind to me.

“What is it?” he asks. “You can see I’m in the middle of a very important meeting.”

“Indeed. It must be tough at the top, drinking with Asgard’s highest ranking miscreants so early in the morning.”

Thor grins at me. “Loki, you know you’ll always be the highest ranking miscreant on Asgard. Have you been so busy with your man that you’ve forgotten it’s the Einherjar feast today? You too should be raising a cup for the warriors in Valhalla.”

“Already?” I’m dishonouring the dead, but this is a terrible time for a distraction. “Didn’t we just have a fertility festival?”

“Loki, you are the only person on Asgard who complains about a feast.”

“I don’t mind feasts. I just don’t like some of the behaviour that comes along with them.”

“Too wholesome for you?” asks Volstagg and it’s my turn to be the butt of the joke as per usual.

I shrug. “Where’s the pleasure in fighting a drunk man? I like a challenge.”

“No one is going to fight anyone,” Thor says, taking my arm and leading me away from the table. We go to the corner of the room, away from the warriors who start up their argument again. “What is it you want, Loki?”

I smile. Then I grin. Then I laugh to myself gleefully. Despite everything happening right now, there’s such joy in my heart that I can’t hide it from Thor. “I am passionately, endlessly, madly, and completely in love with Dr Kit Wilson.”

Thor slaps me on the shoulder, grinning at me like a man who has discovered his wife carries his first child. “I know you are, and I am pleased for you and proud of you and all manner of happy things. Have you arranged to visit him when he returns to Midgard?”

“He’s not going to return, not permanently. He will stay here. With me.”

This is met with less pleasure. Thor’s smile is fixed but he’s a little stiffer as he says, “I see. What about his work?”

“We will arrange something.”

“What about his family?”

I hadn’t thought about any of this, but these little details are nothing compared to the threat posed by Hydra. If I can fix that, I can fix the problem of where his parents will room in their dotage. “They will come too, in time, if they want to. For now, he will live in my apartments.” I hold open the near-empty box of tea. “I’d like to go to Midgard and fetch some things to help make him comfortable. More of this tea, cigarettes, some of the Midgardian foods, plus some of his possessions. I want permission to use the Bifrost this time and for you to accompany me so there is no confusion for Heimdall about my intentions. Come on.”

I turn and stride toward the door, stopping when I realise he’s stood exactly where I left him. “Loki, this is very sudden,” he says, walking towards me slowly. He drops his voice when he’s close to me and murmurs, “What if there’s another _mutual dumping_?”

“Then we will mutually dump Kit’s things back in his apartment in Oxford. For now he stays.”

Thor frowns at me, as if he’s genuinely considering my request but there’s really nothing he can do. Bastard. “I don’t know,” he says. “I’m happy for you, but I don’t want you to get your heart broken because you’ve thrown yourself in too quickly. Why not spend a bit more time getting to know each other first?”

“We can do that here as well as anywhere. I’m not a child, brother. I’m requesting use of the Bifrost from you, not permission for him to stay, though you will need to inform the authorities on Midgard that he won’t be returning as scheduled. You can do that today, can’t you?”

Thor looks at his friends, and I know he’d rather be drowning in his cups than dealing with Midgard. “What does young Christopher have to say on the matter?”

“He doesn’t want to leave.”

“Why isn’t he here to tell me that himself?”

Today is not the day for Kit to see Thor. He needs to gather himself first before he exposes all our lies. “He’s in my bed.” That is, at least, true.

“What, is he tied to it? Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.” Thor squeezes his eyes shut and mutters, “I am going to drink enough for some mild amnesia to get rid of that image.” He shakes his head, focuses on me again. “Loki, I don’t know what sort of physical consummation has brought this on, but give it a few more days before you make such a big decision. Love does funny things to the brain.”

So would my dagger. “Kit is not going back.”

“He might not be, but you don’t have a choice in that right now. Christopher can come to me himself if he wants to stay. I can’t keep him here on your word alone.” He turns, heads back across the tavern to his friends. “Tell him to come see me tomorrow,” he calls over his shoulder. “Not today, unless he wants to honour the dead with us, then he is more than welcome”.

So much for Thor’s pleasure in my happiness. I’m furious beyond words, but I suppress my desire to punish him for his disloyalty to me. Every day I remind myself Thor has his weaknesses, just as I have mine. There’s some comfort in that.

Back in my room, I find Kit on the bed where I left him, eating spiced apple cake and reading. He smiles at me when I enter then turns his attention back to his book. It’s only a moment, that smile, but it brings me peace.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Is he ours?”

Lopt stands over Kit, watching him sleep. He’s not trying to be quiet, but I’ve silenced the room. We can say what we like without fear of waking Kit.

“Not quite,” I say from my seat on the chaise. “Not yet.” The truth is that I’m not sure. The situation has changed since Kit came to me this morning, and though we were physically affectionate when we talked about John, there’s been nothing intimate since. He might have just wanted comfort at the time, and I was willing to wrap my arms around him and make him feel safe. If he asked, I’d never stop.

But he hasn’t asked and I’ve not pursued the matter though it has hurt me most terribly to have him so close and receive no invitation to touch him. I lay on the bed next to him all day, letting him do whatever he wished. That was mostly making notes on the book he’d chosen, getting up only to smoke on the balcony occasionally. He fell asleep as I sat reading to him, translating one of the ancient texts.

Lopt looks down at Kit curiously. “He’s in our bed.”

“Yes.” 

“Will you tell me the story?”

Never, I think. “Not tonight.” Something in my chest tightens as I realise this might be the last time I ever summon Lopt. I love him, not romantically but a real and true love all the same. It’s kinship and vanity and my deeply buried self-esteem. He’s the best and the worst of me, the confidence I’ve lost but the cruelty too.

I can’t keep bringing him here, not if Kit is going to be mine.

“So, why am I here?” he asks.

“It’s Einherjar. I want you to stand in for me at the feast. Go live. Enjoy yourself.”

It’s the first freedom Lopt has ever had and he must be conscious of it. “You trust me?” he asks, cautiously, as if I’m testing him.

“No. But I don’t want to leave Kit alone in case he wakes. You have an hour.”

“I’d rather stay with you.”

I’ve anticipated this. I’d be saying the same if our roles were reversed. “I thought you were bored of being my—what was it?—fuck puppet? I’m offering you some freedom.”

“And I know what that means. If that boy falls in love with you then you’ll be done with me.”

“Falls in love with us. I told you, I’ll share him.” I won’t, but I say it all the same.

He doesn’t even bother to volunteer to stay here in my stead, just turns on his heels and leaves the room. As he walks down the corridor, I hear him say, “Thor, at least, will be delighted to see me.” I suspect he’s right.

Alone with my sleeping love, I strip and join him in the bed. It shifts beneath my weight, and he rouses briefly, wriggling over to lay his head on my chest, slinging an arm over my stomach.

I say silent prayers of thanks to anyone who might hear them. It’s pathetic, the need I’ve felt for this display of affection from Kit, but now I have it, I cherish the moment as if I waited an eternity, not mere hours.

Despite every problem I face right now, I reflect that it has been a long time since life was this good. I’m risking my entire world for Kit but lying close to him, I know that whatever comes I’ve made the right decision. To love and be loved is all I’ve ever wanted. Now I have it. I need nothing else.


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Five

I’m woken with a kiss. It’s not on my lips.

I look down my body and see Kit. Apparently he’s in better spirits today. He has pushed the sheets down and is kissing my stomach slowly and deliberately, working his way down my body. He looks at me and says, “Good morning.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Very.”

I look him over and realise he’s wearing nothing but a wicked grin. This is going to be a very good morning indeed.

THUMP THUMP THUMP

Or not.

“Go away!” I shout, gently patting Kit’s head back down as he raises it to look at the door.

He resists me, dips out from beneath my hand and sits up to full height. “What if it’s important?”

In his new position, I can see his erection. That’s for me, because he desires me just as I am. Because pleasing me arouses him. Because I am worthy.

I reach for his cock, watch him shiver as I run my hand up and down its length. “What’s the point of being a prince of the realm if I don’t get to decide what is and isn’t important? What we are doing right now is top priority.”

THUMP THUMP THUMP

“Would you kindly fuck off?” I shout at the door.

There’s a moment of silence and then whoever is behind the wood plucks up the courage to shout, “The king requests your presence, your highness!”

Of course he does.

Kit stills my hand. “I think you’ve been outranked.”

I let go of him reluctantly and leave the bed, transforming myself into a state fit to be seen by anyone but my lover. I’m clean, smart, and most importantly unaroused, though there’s nothing to be done about my frustration.

Turning to Kit, I see him laid face down on the bed now, hugging his pillow as he rests his chin on it. His bare bottom is smooth, white but for a little dark hair buried deep beneath his cheeks, and insanely tempting. “Do not move from this position,” I say, thinking of the many ways in which I might bring him off this morning. “Not unless you want to get into one that’s even more suggestive, in which case, do as you wish.”

He laughs, and I leave the room taller, stronger, and far more handsome than when I entered it, though I’ve done nothing to my body right now. I’m enjoying his approval.

I expect to meet Thor at the breakfast table or in his rooms. Instead I’m led to the throne where he sits, looking royally hungover. Given the amount he can drink, it must have been an incredible night by his standards.

But I am refreshed and happy. “You wanted to see me, brother?” I say brightly, unable to hide the smile from my face. There is almost as much pleasure in finding my position preferable to his as there is in bed with Kit. Still, I know where I’d rather be.

Thor rubs his face and looks down at me as if this is too much like hard work. “You didn’t attend the festival last night.”

“I spent the night with Kit, but I attended for a short while.”

Thor splays the fingers covering his face and looks at me. He’s tired, but he seems serious. “I didn’t speak to you.”

Lopt might have done anything instead of attend. I didn’t watch him. And yet I don’t want to believe he let me down. “Yes, you did. You were pleased to see me doing my duty.”

“Was I?” He smiles but it’s pleasureless, the effort ending at his lips while his eyes bore into me. “I must have drunk too much ale.”

“You must. Now, may I return to my bed? Kit is waiting for me.”

Thor continues to stare at me from his throne, eyes bloodshot, his head resting on one hand as if he can hardly hold it up.

“I’ll go then,” I say. “Oh, shall I bring Kit to see you later? You wanted to speak to him before you approach Asgard about him staying.”

“Not today.”

I nod. We’ve five days left. It’s a blink of an eye and an eternity. If it were Jane Foster, he’d have arranged the matter immediately, but she didn’t want to come and live on Asgard with him.

My heart beats faster as I realise he may even be jealous of me right now. I ought to be enjoying it, but I know how it feels and merely pity him. I don’t want him to be unhappy the way I was.

“Tomorrow then,” I say, turning to leave him be.

He lets me walk a step and then says, “I love you, brother. You’ve proven yourself a good man these last few years.”

Oh dear.

I look back at him, acknowledging the sentiment even if I refuse to share it. I do love him, but I’m hardly the type to admit it to him, even now. “Thank you?”

He chuckles bitterly. “Thank you? No, thank you for becoming a better man.”

“I try.”

Thor stands, shuffles down the steps and puts a hand on my shoulder. “You always have been trying,” he says, rubbing his face again. “Just don’t let me down again. Please. Don’t let me down.”

I lift his hangover with a simple spell and smile at him benevolently. “I promise you, I do nothing but good these days.”

I leave him and return to my room. My heart’s pounding and I’m worried about what I’ll find. Will Kit be there? What does Thor know? What is he going to do?

I’m walking fast but soon I begin to run, and when that’s not fast enough I teleport myself back to my room.

Kit is where I left him. Well, he’s almost there. He has put on some underwear, moved to the other side of the bed and taken up his notebook.

“Loki?” he says, looking up as I materialise next to the bed. “That was quick.”

“Thor suspects. He didn’t say what, but I know he suspects something.”

Kit sits up, pulls his legs beneath his chin. “Fuck,” he whispers.

“I can protect you while you are here. Thor won’t believe you’ve anything to do with whatever he thinks of me. But when you return to Midgard you’ll be at risk.”

He’s reaching for his cigarettes which are by the bed. I grab the case and take one for him, lighting it in the process. “You can smoke in here. It’s fine.”

“Thanks.”

I sit down next to him, put an arm around his shoulder. “If they come for you, this is what you must do. You must tell Thor that I have been controlling your mind. Tell him you are afraid to return to Midgard because you don’t know what you’ve done and who will be looking for you. Tell him that you want to stay on Asgard permanently and that the next person to arrive from Midgard might be sent to hurt you. He has to close the Bifrost.”

Kit takes a drag on his cigarette but seems to get no relief from it. He rubs his face with the heel of his palm, spilling the little ash that has gathered on the tip onto the bed. “I can’t do that,” he whispers. “He won’t believe me.”

“He will. Tell him I am wicked. That I’ve used you. Hurt you. He’ll feel guilty for trusting me with you. He’ll do whatever you want.”

“No. You wouldn’t do that.”

“Why not? I’ve done it before.”

He recoils from me, leaving the bed to go dress. It’s a stab in my heart, but it’s the only way. If he won’t lie for me, I’ll have to make him believe it.

“No, Loki.”

I advance on him, grab him and throw him back down onto the bed. “Tell him you hate me. That you’re terrified of me.”

“No.” The expression on his face makes me feel physically sick. But I must continue.

“Tell him I took you against your will over and over again. Tell him you’ve never known such pain and humiliation as you did in my bed. Tell him I made you suffer.”

“I can’t.”

“You can if it’s true.”

His eyes are wide, wild with fear as tears stream down his cheeks. I can hardly look at him now. “I don’t believe you,” he says, but every part of his trembling body contradicts his words.

He’s right though. There was a time I might have done it, when I didn’t understand the rage and pain that controlled me. Now I could not hurt him even to save him from worse.

I’ve become weak.

Would the old me have done this? Lied for this man? Took his punishment? Would I have accepted his freedom as the price of my incarceration?

Would I have fallen in love with him?

The remnants of my life past swirl within me. I’d have tried to have it all. Kit would have been mine. Not via mind control, never that, but I might have played to his baser instincts. I think I could have fucked him into submission.

I wouldn’t have given him up for his own comfort or safety. I’d have taken out every threat. The Hydra agents would kneel before me or they would have died without mercy. Thor would have found himself in jail long before he ever got the chance to put me there. I’d have Asgard because I wanted it, Midgard because it was there, and Kit because there’d be none of this without him. He’s the only part of the scenario I wouldn’t change.

I turn away from him, ashamed. “I ought to do it. If I don’t you’ll get yourself thrown in jail too.”

“At least we’ll be together.”

As if he could still want that now. “We won’t. We might be twenty feet apart but we’d never see each other again. And instead of me hurting you once there will be men who make you suffer every night, and they won’t have the power to fix you afterward. They will destroy you.”

I hear him sniffing, know he must be wiping his eyes. I hate myself for threatening him every bit as much as if I really had hurt him. What must he think of me?

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m so sorry.”

As if in response, I feel his hand touch my shoulder. It’s tentative at first, and when I don’t shove him away his touch becomes determined, the comforting weight of his palm resting upon me, then the curl of his fingers in a gentle grip.

“It’s okay,” he says. “There has to be another way.”

It seems impossible. But I deal with the impossible every day. I’m reminded of Strange and his Time Stone. He fought me, but when he lost, he found another way. So long as he had the stone, I could never have truly defeated him.

I don’t have the stone. But I have Kit and my wits and, though I hate to admit it, I do have my brother. Those are all worth more than my pride.

I know what I must do.


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Six

I can’t leave Kit, but I can’t take him with me. Instead he waits, ready to rouse me if someone comes to my room.

I travel slowly now, going via the Quantum Realm as we did before to give myself time to think. As I pass Homeworld, it occurs to me that, should we need to, this is somewhere we could hide. It’s even somewhere we could make a life.

This time when I arrive at Hydra’s base, I’m visible. I appear in the library, taking a seat and saying, “I’m ready to talk. You’ve got ten minutes.”

John Edbury is there in two. He enters with a smile on his face but I can tell he’s not pleased to see me. It must be bittersweet, the success of the mission resulting in the loss of his favourite asset. I look forward to rubbing that fact in.

“Mr. Laufeyson,” he says, “It’s a pleasure to see you again so soon.”

“For you, perhaps.”

John laughs politely, as if I’ve said something terribly witty rather than ill-mannered. “Have you researched Hydra?”

“As best I could. Kit has been very forthcoming about the terms of his involvement with your organisation.”

“I see.”

I chuckle now, enjoying how tense he has become. He straightens in his chair, grips the arms, fixing a smile on his face.

“Don’t worry. I’m not here to avenge Kit.” I’ll save that for later. “I want to know more. If I were to offer Hydra my support, what would you have me do?”

John shrugs. “You’ve got power and access to weaponry. What do you think?”

“And what is in it for me?”

“Asgard, of course, which gives you most of the Nine Realms too. You’d have a degree of power here on Earth as a high ranking member of Hydra.”

A kingdom I could retake if I wanted to and a position as lapdog on Midgard. Does this mortal honestly believe I can be bought so easily? I lean forward, look him dead in the eye and say, “All I want is Kit.”

“I thought you said you’d had him.”

“Anyone could have his body. I want his heart. Unfortunately, someone is getting in the way.”

John looks triumphant. “The human heart is uncontrollable I’m afraid.”

“But the mind is not. I can make Kit love me with a snap of my fingers. I want his lover dead for my personal satisfaction.”

The hint of fear creeps into his eyes again. “Kit is yours. We’ll kill his lover. You can pick up the pieces.”

“I’d like to kill him myself.” I would. I’d like to get up out of my chair and strangle the bastard with my bare hands. “But Kit must never suspect my involvement.”

“Of course. What will you be willing to trade?”

“Let’s start with what I am able to. I’ll return tomorrow with something from Odin’s vault. That’s a guarantee.”

“The Tesseract?”

I snort. “For the life of one human? You must value him very highly.”

John gives me a watery smile and shrugs. “Kit Wilson is nobody.”

“Then he’s not worth the Tesseract. I’ll want to see more commitment from your organisation before I even consider offering that.”

“How much more commitment?”

I lean forward in my chair as if I am to tell him a secret he doesn’t already know. “Mr. Edbury, I am aware I hold all the cards in this discussion. Your numbers count for nothing against my powers.”

“We have some extremely powerful members.”

“None of whom have access to the technology I possess, none of whom can rival my abilities, and none of whom can strike terror into the hearts of humanity as I can. I am Loki of Asgard. I’ve forced your people to kneel before me in my pursuit of Asgard’s throne—Asgard, not Midgard. Those Avenger’s played right into my hands. And you should know, I held Asgard’s throne for several years after that. I could do it all again if I wanted Midgard.

I stand up and smooth down my leathers. They’re already perfect, of course, but I want him to see the trappings of royalty. “I’ll be back with your payment. In the meantime, I want Kit’s lover dead, and I want you to decide seriously what else you can offer me that might be worth having.”

I leave without a goodbye, opening my eyes in Asgard. Kit is sat opposite me on the bed, nursing a cup of tea.

“Loki?” He sits up a little straighter as I blink my eyes and stretch my neck. “What happened?”

“John lied to me.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised. Well, I could, but I’d be lying.”

I’m glad to see he’s in better humour about the possibility of our impending downfall. Now the initial panic is over, I’m certain we’re not done yet. If we are, we’ll go out fighting.

Kit drains his cup and puts it on the floor. He crawls across the bed to kiss me again, melting against me as he settles into my lap. “We might not have much time left together.”

“Don’t worry. If this doesn’t work out, I’ve got a Plan B.”

“Will you cut a deal at our trial? Get us housed together in the jail.”

If only it were so easy. “There are no trials on Asgard. But I know somewhere we both could go.”

He sits back so he can look at me, lips twisting into a wry smile. “Really? Where?”

“Just a little place I know. A really little place. Somewhere special where no one will ever find us.” I’m thinking of Homeworld and the life we might have together there.

Kit is thinking of what we’ll leave behind. “But we’ll never see our families again.”

“You won’t see them anyway if you’re dead or in the dungeon.” I brush my fingers across his cheek and he leans into my touch, closing his eyes.

He says, “I'm sorry I'm not what you thought I was.”

“I'm not. You’re everything I’d have you be. You’re perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Kit opens his eyes and the way he looks at me... I feel like we are making love again. All the beauty of the universe is in his gaze, and it is turned on me. I feel like the most powerful man to ever have lived. I feel like I can do anything.

“We won’t need Plan B,” I say. “We’re going to win.”


	27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Kit and I are together, and right now I feel we always will be. From that perspective, we’ve already won.

I pull Kit closer and kiss him again. He clings tightly to me with a grip that might hurt a human but I can well withstand it.

“Loki,” he says, “Loki.”

There’s so much I want to hear from him, but for now, just my name is soothing. “Kit,” I say, letting him know I am as present with him as he is with me.

I’m going to make love to him. I’m going to thrust myself deep into his body, explore him in places he longs for my hands to be. With a thought our clothes are gone, and we are skin to skin. I reach for his cock, find it hard, then, remembering how sensitive his nipples were last time, I turn my attention to those, rolling them between my thumb and forefinger as we kiss.

“Loki,” he says again.

I reach out with my magic to stretch and wet him as I have before. Last time he enjoyed it, but now he breaks the kiss and says, “Don’t. I want to feel you.”

It’s a request that would bring me no end of pleasure if it did not imply he hadn’t got what he wanted last time. “You couldn’t feel it before?”

“Of course I could. I just didn’t have to work for it.”

Ah. He wants to be full. Too full. He wants the pressure on his muscles, the stretch and the burn. He wants to be taken.

“As you wish. Oil?”

“Yes. I’ll still need a lot of that.”

My magic lubricates him, and my fingers search out his hole. He twists slightly, angling his backside away from me so it’s an easy reach behind instead of beneath. I insert one, fuck him with it slowly. He drapes his arms around my neck and leans against me, his breath moist against the skin of my jaw as he attempts kisses—no easy task while I’m teasing him inside.

With my attention focused on such a spot, I could make him come very quickly. If he were a woman, I’d bring him off several times before my cock ever got inside him, but he is no woman, and I am aware the human male does not have so great a capacity as myself. It may be the species only failing. He is young and healthy, we might only have to wait thirty minutes. But thirty minutes is a long time when you are warm and snuggled in a bed, and the temptation for sleep is so great.

It’s better to ask. “Do you want to come?”

I can see from his face that he does, but he shakes his head, and I withdraw my focus to the ring of muscle around his hole again. I give him another finger, and he groans as the stretch increase.

“You’re sure you don’t want my help? I want you to be comfortable.”

“No magic.” He’s panting heavily. “Just you and me.”

“I am magic. You can’t separate that from me.”

“I’m not. I can’t give back.”

There are forces at work I barely notice I’m using. I can let my arousal ebb and flow with practiced ease, and I can do it all without breaking a sweat. Consciously I let them go, and suddenly everything is harder. My cock is painfully erect, and I’m hyperaware that I have the most beautiful boy in my lap and he is desperate for me to fuck him. My breath is short as I withdraw my fingers, whispering, “I let go of the magic. I’m not in control anymore. I need you. Now.”

I’m moving him, manoeuvring him before I have any reply, but when it comes, all he says is, “Quickly.”

I place him at the head of the bed, hands on the headboard, my pillows beneath his knees. He’s so beautiful that, even in my wild state, I can’t help staring at his long, lean body in front of me, back curving gracefully, his arse pushed out toward me, legs apart.

It’s his hole that really gets my attention. It’s a little open still, slick and wet. The pink flesh, a dusting of dark hair. It invites my fingers, begs for my tongue, but it screams for my cock.

I come up behind him rub the tip against it. He has allowed me magic for oil and I use it, slicking myself thoroughly. He’ll feel it, but I pray it won’t hurt.

Then I go in.

He tenses but I’m in to the hilt before I can stop myself. “Are you all right?” I ask, knowing full well that I am not so there is no way he could be.

He takes steadying breaths, head nodding. He’s reaching down, stroking his cock. Curiosity gets the better of me, and my hand joins his. I need to know if he’s trying to stay aroused or if he’s unable to deny himself stimulation any longer.

When he feels me groping, he lets go, and I have unrestricted access to his cock. He’s semi-erect. It’s not something I’ve often encountered, not with the skills or the magic I possess. But it doesn’t last long and my hand soon brings him up to full height.

I venture a small thrust and he moans. The noise goes straight to my balls, telling me to come. Inside him, my cock twitches and he groans this time.

I want to fuck him, but, with effort, I let him acclimatise a little longer. Slow thrusts, a gentle hand resting on his cock instead of pulling him off, kisses on his shoulders, his neck. My body is aflame, but I give him the time he needs.

Then, his voice tiny, he pleads, “Faster.” 

He gets it. I build my pace until I’m furiously ploughing him. I’ve still got him in my hand, and he surprises me a moment later when his fingers cover mine and he pushes my grip down to his balls, forcing my hand to squeeze

“Loki,” he says again. I’m aware it’s probably all he can manage now, and I can think no more than that myself.

I squeeze him, fuck him, kiss every part of him I can reach with my lips. Then he cries out, he’s coming, and he’s milking every drop of my seed from my body as I tremble behind him, making the sorts of noises a whore might practice but that come unrehearsed from me.

We part and I lay down, pleased when he snuggles down next to me a moment later.

“Well,” I say, feeling as merry as I am exhausted. “Well, well, well.”

Kit wipes the sweat from my brow with his thumb, pushing back my hair. “That seemed like hard work for a powerful god,” he pants.

I grin at him, feeling very proud of my magic-free performance. “I was almost overcome.”

He chuckles. He’s so soft, so warm in my arms, his body pliable against mine. I know he feels relaxed, safe, despite everything he has been through. I know too he has still not yet told me he loves me.

Surely now I’ve earned it. I’ve done so much for him, risked everything. He knows I’ve loved him from the start, even if I’ve refused to say it to him. I’ll risk the universe, but I’ve never wanted to give anyone the satisfaction of knowing with absolute certainty that they broke my heart. But I’ve told him in many other ways, and when I hear it from him, I’ll tell him a million times over. Boldly I ask, “What are you feeling?”

“Well fucked.” He laughs. “I’m a little tender.”

It wasn’t what I meant, but it’s an answer all the same and, perhaps, a request. “I could—”

“No. I like feeling this way.”

We lapse into silence. I’m disappointed but won’t let it show, not in front of him. That means he must go so I’ll have free rein to vent my emotions.

“Kit, my pet, why don’t you fetch your things. You must stay close to me until this is all over.”

“After, too?” he asks, leaving the bed.

“Of course.” I look him over, using my talents to scrub the sex from his body and dress him as I wish. I garb him in his usual clothes—a Midgardian style shirt, denim jeans, and a jacket—but these are to my tastes. The trousers and jacket are black, the shirt a rich green. I give him my gold too, a chunky ring on his finger and a long chain around his neck. No one could mistake him as anything other than my property.

“Wow,” he says, looking down at his dress. “How do I look?”

“Ravishing. Go on. I’ll clear some space for you.”

He bends down to the bed and kisses me, then leaves to fetch his things.

I’m hurting. It’s a state I’ve become used to, but now it is quite acute, though the rational part of me knows he has done nothing to rouse my ire and this is all my insecurities coming to the surface. But why couldn’t he say it? He told the guard he loved me, how hard can it be to tell me himself? The only explanation is that he lied.

I leave my bed and enjoy the comfort and safety of my magic once more, but I’m still in a filthy mood. I shove my bed aside and conjure a bag. Filling it with the relics I hid earlier, I’m aware that I have in my possession the most powerful collection of weapons in existence. I could destroy the Nine Realms. I could destroy the universe.

Deep within me I still have the flame of desire for destruction. It burns brighter now, the feelings of rejection fanning my hurt and the accompanying anger.

I pause with the Tesseract in my hand and stare down at it. What couldn’t I do with this? I wasted it before. I used it to toy with Midgard, to distract my brother, and to get me back to Asgard. A ‘long con’—that’s what they call it on Midgard. I should have done more with the Tesseract than that.

I laugh bitterly at myself. All this rage just because Kit hasn’t said he loves me.

I toss the Tesseract into the bag, realising that I really have changed. The emotions are the same—I have lived all my life with hurt, anger, and rejection—but now I have learnt to live with them without acting out. I might fantasise about my revenge, but I won’t take it.

Besides, what is there to revenge? The reticence of a man frightened and alone on an alien world, a man I threatened to assault. If he doesn’t love me I’ve no one to blame but myself. Who could love a god like me?

“What are you doing, Loki?”

I turn my head and see Thor leaning in the doorway, watching me.

Shit.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty Eight

“I’m not up to anything,” I say, hefting the bag onto my shoulder. I don’t know how much he saw but I assume it was more than enough to incriminate me.

Thor tosses Mjolnir into the air casually. That’s how I know he’s really mad.

“I know you better than that, brother. Also, I got Heimdall to watch you—which, by the way, he says I owe him a good deal of ale for. He said he saw things he may never forget.”

“If he turned his eyes on my bed he has no one but himself to blame. How dare that self-righteous—”

“What have you done with the weaponry from Odin’s vault?”

At least Thor has gotten to the point. I indicate the bag. “I’m about to return them. I had reason to believe the relics were under threat so I took them for safekeeping. I’ve not used any of them for my own purposes.”

“What was the threat?”

“It was nothing. Well, not nothing. It was Strange. The bastard said he’d come to Asgard and take them.”

“I don’t believe you.”

I doubt he’d believe me even if I wasn’t lying to him. Of course, I am lying to him, and I’m not bothering to hide the fact. He has to trust me.

“I swear on our mother’s love, I’m not trying to take over the throne again. Far too much bother.”

Frigga’s love is the only thing I have to offer as guarantee, and she is dead. But Thor nods. He knows me well enough to know I wouldn’t disrespect my mother, not now she’s gone.

He asks, “What about Midgard?”

“I don’t want it.”

“If your motives are innocent then you can ask for my help whatever the matter may be.”

“I don’t need help.”

“Brother—”

“Trust me.”

He laughs. The whoreson laughs at me bitterly, each Ha! twisted into something obscene, born of nothing but anger and disappointment. “I wish I could,” he growls.

I take the bag from my shoulder and proffer it to him. He’ll have to trust me that each and every relic I hold is real. “I don't do this for me.”

“You never do, do you?” Thor snatches the bag from my hand and looks inside, quickly shutting it after his first look. When he’s sure I’ve not handed him a bag of something nasty, he chances another look, reaching inside and removing the Tesseract. We both know it’s the thing most worth having.

He says, “I want to think this is for your boy. Then you’ll have a reason if not an excuse. I’ll give you a chance to explain and a reminder: you mustn't be seduced into evil.”

“You think I’d sell you and Asgard for a chance at Kit’s arse?”

Thor laughs again but this time it’s softer, as if he’s now dealing with a naughty child, one led astray. “Oh, Loki,” he says, tossing the Tesseract back into the bag. “For all your wickedness, in some matters, you are an innocent.”

“I've been married.”

“Proof that you give your heart rarely and love deeply.”

Proof that I’m no virgin to be seduced into evil, or even just Kit’s bed. I’m the seducer.

“I've had children by two women and a stallion. I've carried a horse in my womb.”

Thor cringes at the last barb. “Innocent is a subjective word,” he says. “Listen, I cannot lose you again, and I feel like we’re having this conversation a lot lately.”

Thor is the one who will not leave me be. “If I could tell you what I’m doing, you'd say I do good work.”

“I’d like to think that’s true. But even if I choose to trust you, can I trust young Christopher?”

“Yes. He's all goodness.”

“Not an agent of Hydra then?”

It should have been more surprising than it was, but hearing those words, I felt a weight lift rather than a sinking dread. Now I know what Thor knows. Now I am at least able to counter his arguments. I can be with Kit in moments, and I can have us both in the Quantum Realm in not much more time than that. I need no excuse now to whisk him away. He need face no more danger. I can have him, and we can build our life together.

But first I’m going to kill whatever man, woman or beast told Thor. “That's a very specific accusation,” I say.

“It came from a very specific source. I might as well have heard it from your own lips.”

So it wasn’t a man, woman or beast. It was all three and none of them.

Lopt is beside me in an instant, all smiles as he reaches out to take my hand. A moment later he realises we’re not alone and withdraws. He chuckles like he’s embarrassed, as if he’s a naughty schoolboy caught with his sweetheart.

“Oh. I didn’t think he’d be here when you summoned me.”

He’s talking about Thor. But I’d have known I’d bring him here without a care to prove Kit’s innocence and Lopt must know it too. I really was a shameless cunt when I created him.

“What did you say to my brother?” I bark, too angry for embarrassment, let alone pleasantries.

“Nothing.”

I snatch Lopt around the throat and lift him from the ground. I’m not fully throttling him. Not yet. “I swear, Lopt, I'll destroy you if you don't tell me the truth.”

He doesn’t tell me. He can’t. He can hardly speak with my hand around his neck. He looks at me with wild eyes, but I can see his hurt and the betrayal beneath the panic. I’d feel it too, were I in his position. In a moment of pure pity, I toss him to the floor, then kick him when I think better of it. I’d kick him again but Thor grabs me and pulls me back.

“Let him talk, Loki.”

Lopt rolls over on the floor, a sharp crackle of laughter proof that his bruised windpipe still works. “You want the truth? You’ve made do with my body long enough, and now you finally want more. Well, the truth is it’s me who has held you over the centuries. Me who made love to you. Not that boy.”

“You’d ruin our happiness out of jealousy,” I spit. I’m furious at him. I’ve betrayed everyone in my life at one time or another, and now I’ve finally betrayed myself. “You’ve never loved us at all,” I say, knowing that is my guilt more than his.

Thor lets go of my arms and circles around so he is between the pair of us. “Wait, wait, wait! Did I hear him—you?—correctly?”

We both ignore Thor.

“You never loved us either,” Lopt sneers at me. “You said I had your heart. Now look at us.”

“You did have my heart. You don’t anymore.”

“Loki? Lokis?” Thor has his hand on my chest, pushing me back so Lopt has the time and space to stand up. “May I interrupt for just a moment? This is weird even for you.”

“Shut up,” we say in unison.

Thor looks me dead in the eye and when I don’t flinch, throws his hands in the air and steps aside.

Lopt approaches me cautiously. I’ve given him nothing he could attack me with, but he’s capable of retrieving my daggers and making an attempt if I show them. That’s all that stops me from conjuring a weapon.

“Don’t do this,” Lopt says. “Don’t throw me away for some boy.”

Thor nods his head vigorously beside us. “Whatever is between you two, however weird and gross this might be, the other Loki is right. You barely know Christopher.”

“Loki's not even slept with him,” Lopt mutters, stepping too close for comfort.

“Actually, I have. You weren’t invited.”

“I bet he wasn't as good as me.”

Thor shoves himself between us again, forcing us both back from each other. “Oh come on, don’t make me listen to this. Have either of you got some sort of trick that will make me forget this part of the conversation ever happened? I mean, we all do it, but the rest of us just use our hands.”

“Thor—” Lopt and I say in unison.

“No, Loki. _Lokis_. Using your hands is quick, painless, very satisfying. Midgard has lots of instructional material if you need it.”

“Don’t be disgusting,” I say.

Thor cocks his head and gives me a pointed look. “I’m the disgusting one?”

I’ve had enough of this and of him. “Kit is a good man, you have my word. Now, are you going to leave us be or do we have a problem?”

“I wish I could. But I can’t risk the safety of our people for your heart.”

“You brought Jane Foster here.”

“That was different.”

“Because your heart matters and mine doesn’t?”

Thor winces at my words and I know I hit my target there. Now to finish him off.

“Please,” I plead, “give me some time. Let me get you some more information.”

“I can’t.”

“You must. If Kit is part of Hydra, they must be using him. He is a decent man. He wouldn’t work for them unless he were under duress.”

Thor closes his eyes and shakes his head. “You’re not thinking clearly. You have been without affection for a long time and now here is a handsome sort of man who takes something of an interest in you. I understand that might be overwhelming.”

“No,” I say. But Kit is overwhelming. He only had to look at me, take an interest. I was so desperate for someone to acknowledge me. “He came to me. And I thought...it made me feel...” 

“Brother, I lied,” Lopt says, stepping up beside me. “Kit is not part of Hydra. I barely know what Hydra is but Loki mentioned they were your enemy now, not us. I was jealous and I wanted to ruin their love affair. I thought there'd be no need for me anymore.”

It’s too little too late. “There is no need for you,” I say, and he’s gone just as quickly as he arrived. I won’t summon him again.

I look at Thor who is watching me carefully in return. “Are we done?”

“For the moment. But I’m going to watch Kit.”

“Excellent.” I force a smile. “Now I’ll know he’ll be safe.”

Thor leaves with the bag of relics, and I close my eyes and look for Kit. He’s in his room, hastily stuffing things into his bag. There’s nothing not on my person already that I wish to take, so I teleport myself to him, surprising him as I arrive in front of him.

“Quickly,” I say, turning my magic on his things and finishing packing his bag in an instant. “No time for dawdling. Do you want any books from the library?” When he stares at me, mouth slightly agog, I bark, “We haven’t time. Tell me what you need.”

“What’s happening?” I snatch his hand and he pulls it from my grip. “Loki! What’s happening?”

Something wonderful. Something neither of us wanted to do.

“It’s time for Plan B.”


	29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Kit frowns. “Plan B? Now? I thought we didn’t have to do Plan B.”

I wish we didn’t, but in my world, situations turn on a knife-edge, often literally. I take Kit’s beautiful face into my hands and look directly into his eyes. I want him to understand the severity of the situation. “Thor has asked Heimdall to watch us, and I suspect by now the guards are on their way. We must go.”

I put my hand on his shoulder and he covers mine with his own. “You'll be safer with me,” I promise. “My brother said he'd keep an eye on you, but I know too well how that goes.”

“Okay,” Kit says, not hesitating to believe me, the god of lies, over Thor, the hero. I only wish I had time to enjoy the moment.

I turn my attention instead to our escape and run my hands over his things, bringing them under my control. They disappear, with me in essence if not on my person, ready to be brought back whenever I require them. Then we shrink, smaller and smaller. Kit gasps and clings to me. I’m manipulating his body, not just carrying his spirit this time, and he will feel everything I do to him. My magic is such that it’s not a dangerous or painful transformation, but it does tingle.

“What’s happening?”

“Shh,” I say gently. “When we’re away from prying eyes and ears.”

Kit trusts me. I feel it in the way he holds me, pulling me closer instead of struggling away from the strangeness of my magic. He had little other choice, of course, but he chooses me rather than beg the mercy of my brother, from whom he might even get it once Thor understood. Were I not part of this, he would probably trust Kit, if Kit told him the truth.

When we finally stop, we’re somewhere guaranteed to impress. It’s a deliberate tactic, and I hope to wow him by appealing to his better instincts. It will be easier to keep him here if he wants to stay.

There’s plenty of choice in the Quantum Realm, the planets of Sub-Atomica or the molecular Homeworld being the best known to me. I choose the latter, settling upon the Sea Zone rather than choosing the Royal Palaces, though it’s less to my tastes. I’m thinking of Kit now.

Sea Zone is an ocean planet, colonised by the people of Homeworld nearly three thousand of our years ago. It’s cities rise out of the water, great towering metal structures that would dwarf Asgard’s magnificent palace, each home to tens of thousands of people. They live off the seas: fish, plants, seagoing mammals, and the drinking water is cleaned and desalinated from the ocean. There’s trade too, and most things can be procured in the markets here from many different realms, including our own.

I’ve brought us to rest in a large, elevated parkland 100m above sea level. There’s grass on the ground, a maze, tree-lined avenues even, but on either side of the wide expanse the horizon is clear blue ocean.

“Where are we?” Kit asks, turning to look up at the enormous city rising up behind us.

“Your people called it Atlantis.”

“Atlantis!”

There it is, the smile, the laugh which says I’ve hooked him. Intellectual curiosity, boyish excitement and sheer wonder smooth over his fears, his traumas. He’s distracted. It won’t last, I don’t expect it to, but for now, it will do.

“Atlantis,” he says again, voice soft, full of disbelief. “No one on Earth will believe me when I tell them.”

He may never get the chance, but this is not the time to remind him of that.

“Come, let me show you the sights.” I offer him my arm, and he loops his own through it.

“How long have we got?” 

“Time is different here. Minutes on Asgard or Midgard can be the same as days spent here. Weeks will pass for us before they even realise we’re gone. It may be centuries here before they figure out where we are.”

“What will we do?”

“What won't we do? We can explore if you want. Or we could spend days at a time lying in bed together, smoking cigarettes and eating...” I fish for something he likes. “Cheesecake?”

Kit looks up at the city again. Then he turns, takes in the parkland and the seascape beyond. He asks, “Will there be tea?”

“Gallons of it.”

“It sounds like heaven.”

“But?” There’s always a but with Kit.

“But my parents will be at risk when Hydra find out we’ve run, and I should deliver the database back to the Oxford. There's a lot of people counting on my work for their own studies. I can’t just up and leave for good.”

I’ve done it more than once, left family, responsibilities, and ran. Not that I can blame him. I went home in the end.

“Spend a few days here, at least. It’ll be no time at all in our realm. Call it thinking space.”

I step behind him, wrap my arms around his body. “We need to catch our breath.”

He has to agree to that.

“Okay. Just a few days.”

I take his hand and lead him towards the towering city, wondering how much it will have changed in the years since I last visited. There was another reason I chose Sea Zone, of all the places I’ve visited in the Quantum Realm. It’s one of the few worlds I’ve always left on good terms, ready to move on from it rather than be chased out or forced to flee. Though no one I knew will be alive, it’s unlikely there will be any unsavoury legends about me either. This could be a fresh start.

*****

I spend the next week building Kit a paradise. We’ve taken an apartment in the best part of the city, and I have been busy ingratiating myself with Sea Zone’s elite, many of whom are eager to extend credit to a visiting prince.

They’re humanoid in appearance, their skin a pale green colour but otherwise anatomically much of a muchness with Midgardians. I suspect they’ve a common ancestor, just as I suspect that there must be a common ancestor with the Aesir too. Even with our differences, we are all of us too similar for there to be no link.

Homeworld’s royalty live on their own planet and don’t often mix with the riff-raff, even the wealthy amongst them. My title alone earns me entry to most households, and my natural charm goes one better. Very soon we have a network of friends, though Kit is more reticent around them than I am. I have given him the gift of the alltongue so he might communicate freely. When he doesn’t, I let it be known that he is in mourning and that I have brought him to the city to get away from his troubles.

As for paradise, that is our own private space. I’ve put protections in place to make sure it remains that way. The apartment is well appointed in the style of the city, a breezy seaside atmosphere to it, but I use my powers to manipulate the decor and the walls to give the illusion of home: Asgard, my own royal apartments with the view of the city below. It’s an eternal Asgardian summer when I look outside.

I’m looking now, stood at the window, staring out at a view I expect never to see again. Kit is behind me, working through the single book he had in his room when I whisked him away. He has made pages of notes, dissected every part of the core relationship, compared it to texts he knows from his studies on Midgard, some of which he has access to copies of on his laptop. I let him bury himself in work for hours at a time, and when he is ready for company, I am always there.

I hear him close his book. He steps up next to me, pressing his hand to the cool glass window of the apartment, as if he could reach out and touch the cityscape I’ve created.

He says, “Every time I look at this, I’m more and more convinced that it’s perfect.”

Nothing is perfect, not yet. I turn and wrap my arms around Kit, my magic dissolving the clothes on his body and leaving silky black underwear in their stead.

“Now it’s perfect.”

Kit likes it when I dress him up. It’s one of the things I’ve learnt about him over our week of freedom. He shared the memory of himself in silks as he’d worn them on Midgard. It was an evening at the theatre with a female friend, lots of singing and dancing, many men and women watching the show in their underwear or other costumes. The sight of him in a camisole and French knickers drives me wild, and when I let go of my magic, I become a beast, eager and possessive over him, devoted to his pleasure because that’s the only way I can get mine.

I've learnt other things of course. Kit likes kisses on the small of his back, then my tongue between the cheeks of his arse. He likes to hear tales of my past, of my time on Sakaar, or what Midgard was like in the old days. He likes to spend the night staring at the Asgardian stars, just like our first night together. I can create the perfect illusion: the swell of the sea below us, the chill night air, the glowing moons. Now he watches from my arms, the blankets covering us both.

I’ve learnt the foods he likes. I asked, and he told me. I get what I can at the market, giving the food the illusion of looks and flavours he enjoys. Tea is simply water; bread, meat and cheese all different varieties to the ones we imagine we eat but nothing entirely dissimilar. He tries the Homeworld vegetables and fruit and finds them agreeable. It’s his nod to the new culture that surrounds us.

Tonight we’ve already eaten and drunk our fill and he looks satisfied. I might live to see his cheeks round, if he keeps this up.

Kit wraps his arms around my neck, pressing himself against my body. I’m wearing my leathers, but I can still feel him, the pressure of his small weight, the soft silk in my hands as I touch him. With a thought I paint his eyes, making them smokey, the lashes thickly curled. I wipe the stubble from his chin. I can become a woman whenever I wish, but not him. I merely give him a hint of femininity, just as he had on the night of our first kiss.

“How long has passed on Asgard?” he asks.

“Not quite ten minutes.”

This is his daily test. Can he allow himself to stay a little longer? So far it has always been a yes, and I’m sure it will be today too.

“No danger yet then,” he says.

“I could fetch your parents here in an instant, if you come with me.”

He hesitates. “I want them safe, but I can’t just bring them to an alien world for no reason. They’ve got lives of their own, jobs, friends. It wouldn’t be right.”

Of course, I’m a problem too. They could hardly approve of me, the man who tried to enslave their planet.

“One more night,” I suggest, and he nods. “Let me take you out. I’ll make you something to wear.”

Fashion is an interesting concept on Homeworld. It’s not unusual to be seen out in very little, nor is it unusual to be seen out in a suit of armour. It’s a bit like Asgard in that respect. I leave Kit in his silks but create a fur coat to wrap around him to protect his modesty.

He laughs when he sees it. “You’re going to take me out like this?”

“Yes. I’m going to get a box at the opera, and when the lights go down, I’m going to do unspeakable things to you.” I reach out to finger the delicate trim on his camisole. “I think we might make quite a mess of these lacy underthings.”

I can already imagine the underwear covered in his spendings. Not mine. Mine will be deep inside him. Perhaps tonight will be the night he lets me give him my magic. I want desperately to see him cum over and over.

“You’re naughty,” he says, “but if it’s all the same, I think I’d rather go out in proper clothes.”

So I dress him like a prince. My signature colours on buttery leather, gold jewellery, and a small headpiece with tiny horns.

Again he laughs. “Wow, I didn’t know how heavy your clothes were. Shall I just put on my own things?”

One more try. I garb us both in smart Midgardian suits, mine in black, his in a vibrant blue.

Kit looks his over admiringly and nods. “This is perfect.”

It is. He’s still wearing the lacy panties underneath.


	30. Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty

The opera is dreadful. I’ve sat through Ring Cycles less tiresome.

Everyone in the crowd is whispering, no one is paying any attention to the performance. Kit is beside me, leaning over the balcony and staring through his opera glasses at the crowd below us.

“There are humans here.”

I wondered when he’d stumble across some. They wouldn’t be Midgardian, so I saw no point in seeking them out for friendship. If anything, I thought they might make Kit miss home.

“The convergence took humans all over the Nine Realms,” I explain, leaning closer to him so he might hear me better. “Some have gone on to other planets since, others to the Quantum Realm.”

“How?”

“Magic and technology are older than you and I. How else would your people come to know of Atlantis?”

Kit sits back and puts the glasses down on his lap. “So there are humans throughout the universe?”

“Almost everywhere I’ve ever been.”

“Good. We’re wrecking Earth. At least the species will survive.”

I don’t know if he really cares about his home planet. He has said he’ll miss his family, friends, and coworkers, but he’s not mentioned the ground beneath their feet. “Perhaps a little science could be provided to your people—enough to ease the burden on your environment. Asgard has technology that could help.”

“There’s fat chance of that now I’ve ruined relations,” Kit mutters.

“They’re not ruined yet.” 

“Well, they’re not getting fixed here.” He says it with such vehemence I’m genuinely shocked. I know this hasn’t been easy for him, but he’s not given in to tears or complaints. He hasn’t shown me his worry.

But perhaps I’ve chosen not to see it.

“Are you all right?” I ask gently, taking his hand.

“I’m sorry.” He takes his hand back and rubs his face with it, as if he can wipe away the exhaustion and frustration as it breaks through. “I just feel so useless here. Every time I think about what’s happening the consequences get bigger and bigger, and I realise I’ve put so much on the line because I’m a gullible fucking idiot. And now in the middle of it all instead of owning this shit, we’ve gone off on holiday.”

“We ran because we had to,” I snap, and he recoils from me. It’s crushing that my tone will do that to him, but I’ve sweetened enough. He ought to have the plain truth. “You can’t fix anything if you’re mouldering in Odin’s dungeon. At least here there’s some justice and we can live our lives in freedom. Better that than lose everything trying to do the right thing.”

“You never intended to help me fix this?”

I’m cross now. “Of course I did. I do. But we have time now. We can think before we act and while we think we can be together. We can be happy. I've waited centuries for you, and now you're here I've lost everything just to have you—my brother, my country, my position as a prince and as a god, all gone because of you. So I'm damn well going to enjoy every moment we share now. I know this can't last forever, but every second it does last I will live my life and I will love you. Because I do. I love you.”

It comes out unasked for. I immediately regret it. I should have been more careful, but it’s so hard with Kit. This isn’t the way I wanted to say it, not in an argument, yet I was determined to give him the truth, and that is the crux of the matter. I love him. I’ll be with him whatever it costs me.

Kit pauses, mouth falling open slightly, a smile threatening to break through. “You finally said it.”

As if he has been the one waiting for me!

I leave my chair and drop to my knee beside him, taking his hand. “I’ll say more. I adore you. The way you look, the way you treat me, the way you want me, respond to me. The way you smile and blush when you're complimented. You are everything I want, and I am profoundly grateful to have met you. I’d do it all again.”

Now he’s smiling, grinning even, laughing as he throws his arms around me, pulling me to him. “Close the curtains. You can put me in that saucy underwear now if you want.”

I do want, and I am determined that when I’ve done with him tonight, I’ll have satisfaction in every way possible.

But there’s one satisfaction I want first.

With a thought his clothes disappear, replaced by the fur coat I’ve given him. He’s clad in nothing but that and the black silk again, and he looks edible. I stand to close the box curtains and casually ask, “How do you feel about me?”

He shouts, “Duck!”


	31. Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-One

I wake on the floor of the box, my head cradled in Kit’s lap. I have an appalling headache and I’m ninety-nine percent sure I took a bolt of magic to the back of the head. It was a weak spell, but I wasn’t expecting it.

“Loki!” Kit says, attempting to hug my head in a manner that is most uncomfortable, but I don’t stop him. When he pulls back I see the black streaks down his cheeks. He has cried off the makeup I gave him.

“Kit? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine now I know you’re okay.”

“Good. That’s one less thing I’ll have to hand out punishment for. Now, show me the bastard who hit me.”

He looks across the box at Stephen Strange who is sat on a chair in the corner, legs crossed and an open book on his lap, watching us both as if we’re tonight’s performance.

“Hello again,” Strange says.

I sit up slowly, all I’m able to manage with my thumping head. All my energy goes to my look and voice, which are deliberately menacing. “What are you doing here?”

Strange looks extremely pleased with himself for a man who will shortly die at my hands. “Earth isn’t the only realm I monitor, but it is the only place your brother asked me to give you freedom. He assures me you’re no threat to my planet, but that doesn’t mean you’re not a threat here. I’m taking what steps I must to subdue you and then I will return you to Asgard.”

He’s not working with Thor. He can’t be. There’s not enough time passed in that realm. Strange is just being a prick.

I glare at him daggers so he turns his eyes to Kit, looking him over with an appreciative nod. “You have some interesting tastes, Mr Laufeyson. I can't say I disapprove.”

“Don't look at him,” I hiss. “Don't you dare sully him with your gaze.”

Strange snorts. “Do you hear this?” he asks Kit. “He thinks you're dirty just because I looked at you. You could do so much better.”

I’m still staring at Strange but I’m aware of Kit pulling his coat around himself a little tighter. I use what little energy I can muster to give him back his suit and silently promise revenge with whatever else I have left in me. “What do you want, Strange?”

“I don't want anything. Unlike you, I don't make demands. I'm merely here to send you back to where you belong. And as soon as I've confirmed what needs to be done to transport an Asgardian between the realms, we'll be on our way.”

He looks down at his book and I realise I am considerably more knowledgeable than him, if not more powerful. He might be a master of Midgardian magic, but even with his time spent here in the Quantum Realm, he has no frame of reference for Asgard or any other planet, and he has probably never heard of Jötunnheim. Even if he had, I doubt he’d know I am Jötunn. He has natural talent and is obviously a sharp study, but he’s a novice with only a few years experience to his name.

“This might go a lot faster if you let me help,” I say, my tone mocking though I couch it as a genuine suggestion. I’m stalling him until I can regain a little more strength. “I’ve been studying magic for fifteen hundred years. What specifically is it you want to know? How to move me? Or how to move me without me escaping in the process? I fear that may be impossible.”

He ignores me, so I continue, “Perhaps you want to know how to cause an accident. It must be tiresome, sitting around, waiting for me to set foot somewhere I’m not allowed because surely I’ll be up to no good. If you could get rid of me, you could turn your magic to something useful, like children’s parties.”

That gets him. He closes his book and frowns at me. “What exactly are you doing here? Mr. Wilson tells me you’re on vacation.”

“It’s Dr. Wilson,” Kit growls, “and I said we were on holiday.”

Strange shakes his head. “But it’s not the season, and you’re not a real doctor.”

“I gave you my credentials last time we met.”

“You did, and I remember you are an academic specialising in Norse Mythology. When you can perform heart surgery, come back to me.”

I ask, “What about nerve replacement on mangled hands?” I remember our previous encounter, seeing the life he once had before a car accident damaged his hands.

“You can shut up,” Strange mutters, opening the book again.

“I could fix those for you. I fixed Kit’s eyes.”

“He did,” Kit says, excited to have something to bargain with. “I used to have appalling eyesight. You can check that on Earth. He’s not lying.”

“This trickster didn’t fix your eyes. He applied a band aid to them.”

“Incorrect,” I snap. “I fixed his vision. I don’t need to maintain my magic. I can manipulate muscles, bones, and nerves.”

“Liar.”

Kit’s hand is on my shoulder. He squeezes me, his little bit of comfort. “Loki doesn’t lie anymore.”

“Kit, darling, I don’t lie to you. But I’ll happily lie to, and trick, anyone else I have to, including Strange.”

“There goes the element of surprise,” Strange says.

“But I’m not lying about my ability. I could fix your hands. So what do you say, _Mr_. Strange. Do you want to be a real doctor again? You might even get your girlfriend back.”

Strange’s nose wrinkles in distaste and he points a trembling finger at me. “This is why everyone hates you.”

“You started it.”

“And I’ll finish it.”

Not if this goes anything like it did last time. “You wouldn’t be able to do anything at all if I didn’t let you keep the Time Stone.”

“That was your mistake.”

“My mistake was to not kill you the first time we met.”

“Loki!” Kit chastises me. “No killing.”

I look at him and put my hand over his where it rests on my shoulder. “Sorry, my love.”

A faint smile creeps onto his lips at the word and he squeezes my shoulder again. Behind us, in the in the auditorium, the crowd is clapping.

Strange groans as he watches us. “When you’re quite done staring into each other’s eyes, I think it will be time for us to leave shortly. Would you like to tell me where you are staying and I will open a portal to take us all there to collect your things, or shall I chain you and march you out in front of the crowd?”

I make a show of pulling myself to a stand, though by now I am feeling a bit better. “It hardly matters how I leave if we’re not allowed to stay here.”

Strange shrugs. “I’m offering you dignity, not your reputation. Two very different things.”

I’ve never had much good out of either and I’m quite prepared to do without them both but a portal would serve my purposes right now.

“If I tell you, do you promise you’ll not punish Kit?”

Strange rolls his eyes. “As far as I am aware, going to bed with you isn’t a criminal offence. Perhaps it should be, but it’s not. Has he done anything else?”

I hesitate just long enough to make him think the reaction is genuine. “No punishment. Promise.”

Kit looks worried, as he ought. When Strange speaks to Thor, he’ll know. But I don’t intend for Strange to find out anything yet.

“What’s he done?”

“Nothing that wasn’t at my command. You remember that idiot who calls himself Hawkeye? You remember Erik Selvig?”

“I remember going forty two hours without sleep trying to save the lives of people you injured when you attacked New York.”

“Well, I did and didn’t do it alone. You humans are so easy to control. Useful for me, but your minds get so cramped when I share.”

“That explains why a good looking, apparently intelligent young man would be interested in you. Okay. He’s free to go.”

“I’m not leaving Loki,” Kit says, but I hush him.

“You’ll be safe here.”

“I don’t want to be a safe, I want to be with you.”

Strange groans into his hand. “I want to vomit.”

I stare at him daggers, my face a mask of anger as I struggle to keep the smile from my face.

“We’re in the Elite quarter. Third floor, apartment 4242.”

“Very good. Let’s go.”

I’ll be pleased to. My protections are in place for anyone looking to open a portal in our part of the city, and Strange’s portal will redirect to the middle of the ocean, six leagues from here. .

I whisper to Kit, “Take a deep breath and hold it.”

The instant the portal opens, a torrent of water gushes through. Strange is swept off his feet and battered into the balcony. He’s drenched, fighting against the force as his cloak flaps pathetically behind him in the water.

I stand steady against the flow, holding Kit tight, a show of strength more than any need. When I’m used to the water I press forward, heading through the portal and into the ocean beyond, Kit stuck limpet-like to my body.

I fear he must be terrified but there’s little I can do about it. This is Strange’s doing, not mine, and I chose the protection with no idea we’d be on the other side of it.

“Hold on,” I tell Kit, using my mind as even I can’t speak underwater. We plunge down further in an attempt to escape but Strange isn’t far behind us. I look back and see him in the opera house. He’s rallied himself and parted the waters, allowing him to get close to the portal and now he steps through, closing it behind him. That was the easy part. Now he’s twenty feet under and it’s night time. Only the light from his stone illuminates the water, but it’s bright. The thing creates a magnificent glow, presumably at his command, lighting up the area so he can see me as well as I can see him.

He’s slow, however. Strange flaps about in the water, struggling to create the spells for another portal or a bolt of energy. What I can do with my mind, he must use his whole body to accomplish and now he can achieve nothing. The drag the ocean creates is stopping from getting his arms in the right position. He’s off balance and slow. I’m aware too that he will soon need to swim to the surface for air.

I grin at him and he’s furious.

Against me, Kit is shaking, trying to pull me up to the surface. With a thought I give us both gills and tails. He feels the change, eyes widening in surprise as he flaps his tail, hands reaching for his neck. He gasps, expects to choke, but he doesn’t. We are mermen.

Strange sees us change, eyes widening. He reaches for his stone. I power toward him, try to pull it from his body, but he’s increased his own protections since our last encounter and the stone itself repels me, the force sending us both tumbling. As he moves the stone is wrenched from his neck by the current of water he created and tumbles away behind him.

Kit darts after it. He’s quick and graceful in this form, which is a quirk of the shift more than any particular skill on his part. He snatches the chain and it throws him off too, pushing back further still. I dive after Kit, terrified he has been injured trying to help me, but as I reach him I find he’s fine, appears exhilarated even. I’d lock him away if it was up to me, keep him forever safe, but he seems to enjoy being part of the action. He smiles at me and I pull him to me, thankful he’s safe.

By now I expect Strange to be heading for the surface, but he passes us, swimming towards the stone. I signal to Kit and we grab him, try and pull him up for air but he struggles against us. As his mouth opens and I know this is it for him, I change him into merman form too.

Kit was surprised, but I’d describe Strange as shocked at his change, and doubtless the fact that I’m saving his life. He’s still wearing his blasted cloak, though the rest of him is as I intend with my magic, and he scrabbles at his neck just as Kit did. When he realises what I’ve done he nods his thanks. I may have just bought our freedom.

I nod to him in return and point the way to the stone. We swim together and I lead him to it. He only needs to touch it and we’re hurtling back through time, coming to a stop in the box at the opera, halfway through the closing aria.

Kit is looking at his bare legs, fumbling with his neck again. Strange is giving me a wry smile.

“Don’t make me do all that again,” I say.

Strange’s smile broadens. “I’d rather not either. I’d say thank you, by the way, but you were the one who put my life in danger.”

“One, you were too stupid to go up for air, leaving me no choice. Two, as I said before, you started it.”

“I couldn’t leave the stone.”

If he’d died, that would have guaranteed I’d get it. Perhaps he has a trick I don’t know, but I doubt it. “If I wanted your stone I’d have kept it when it was in my hand.” I look to Kit who appears too stunned to give any opinion at all but I doubt he knows what it is, let alone covets it’s power. “I promise you, all we want is a new start and to be left alone.”

Strange makes a show of thinking about it, but I’m sure he knows what he’s about to say. He owes me, at least once. Some would say twice.

“Okay, live your lives. But I won’t go easy if you get into trouble.”

“I expected no less.” I look to Kit again as I add, “I’m not the only one with a past to forget. Will you give him the same?”

Strange gives Kit an appreciative look and I suspect he is thinking of the many things Kit could give him in return. “I won’t touch him,” he promises, holding out his hand for me to shake.

I bow instead, but as he withdraws the offer I take his hand. “You’re a powerful sorcerer.” It’s the highest compliment I can offer him.

“As are you. I don’t suppose you’ll tell me how you do that spell? The shapeshifting, I mean.”

“I don’t suppose I will.”

He nods, as if he expected no less, the wry smile still perched firmly on his lips. He turns and creates a portal, stepping through it with a casual wave behind him. A mere second later he is gone from our lives, hopefully for good.

I turn my attention to Kit who has taken a seat in his chair and is watching the opera. He appears completely numb, unaware of the lingerie he’s wearing again, or Strange’s departure. I sit beside him and put my hand on his knee, and he looks at me vaguely.

“Kit, are you all right?”

“It was all a bit much,” he says.

“Which part?”

“The part where I thought you’d die. Then the part where I thought I would die.”

“Not turning into a merman or hurtling back through time?”

“Those bits were fine. They were quite good fun even—I always wanted to be a mermaid. Besides, all the worst stuff was over by then.” He ventures a smile and when I pat his shoulder he falls into my arms, clinging tightly to me. “Don’t ever let anyone knock you out again. Never. Don’t you ever do it.”

“I won’t,” I promise, though there’s no guarantee. “Strange is done with us.”

“Good.”

The half-hearted applause starts up and I transport him back to our apartment. We appear on the edge of the bed, sat just as we were in the seats in our box and I’m still holding him in my arms.

I stroke his hair. He turns his face up to mine, an invitation to kiss him. But no, not like this. Not when he is suffering.

“Tomorrow,” I say gently. “Let’s wait until it’s perfect.”

He acquiesces immediately, which is for the best, but it feels like a blow. I undress us both in an instant, and as we climb beneath the sheets to sleep, I wonder if he remembers I told him I love him.


	32. Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Two

I wake before Kit. He’s curled up behind me, his hard cock nestling into the gully of my behind. It’s a nice way to wake, but it’s not something I’ve ever wanted from _him_ particularly. Not until now.

Now I’d take it. Now I’d let him have me a hundred times over before breakfast. Now I just want to know he is happy.

I rub my backside against him and the friction rouses him from his slumber. “Hello,” he says, sleepy but sounding pleased to have been woken in such a manner, his hips moving to meet mine as he presses tighter against my back. He puts his arm over me, hand finding mine. Our fingers lace together.

I lift his hand to my lips and kiss his knuckles. “Good morning, my love. How are you feeling?”

“Alive.”

He couldn’t have given me a better answer.

I smile to myself, thinking I’ll make this easy for him. I relax my muscles, oil myself in an instant, wriggle, searching out the tip of his cock. When it nudges against my hole, I take him in.

Kit gasps, pulling his hand from my lips and gripping my hip instead, forcing himself further inside. “I wasn’t expecting that. Not that I mind. I’d been wondering if you’d let me top.”

“We can do things any way you like. You only have to ask.”

“Bottoming for you feels so good though,” he says, quickly adding, “But topping is pretty nice too. You’re not too shabby with your mouth either, mind. And your hands. Wow. Your hands are pretty special.”

I chuckle, pleased to hear my many talents enumerated, and gently tighten my inner muscles, the last spell before I let go of my magic again.

“Ohhhh...” he draws out the sound. “That’s nice. That’s very nice.”

He begins to thrust. It’s an awkward movement, given our sidelong positions, but the result is very pleasing. His cock is a nice size, not too long, not too thick, but not small, either. I’ve had bigger lovers, of the human as well as equine variety, but I’ve had smaller too. I’ve had plenty of lovers who had no cock at all, it never meant they didn’t want to enter me, be it with a fist or a finger. Fun between the sheets can be had in many ways, all equally satisfying in the end.

Kit wants to be in me. He’s eager. It shows in the way he gnaws my shoulder as he fucks me, the way his hand steals around to fondle my cock. He does the things to me that he likes me to do to him. A teasing stroke up and down my shaft, a tweak to my nipples, a sudden grip on my balls—not too tight, just enough for a frisson of pain to go with the building ache in my stretched hole. Little hurts to remind me I’m alive as the pleasure of the fucking builds to breaking point.

For years I let magic make me the perfect lover but without it the pleasure is so much more intense. When I am in Kit I have to control myself for fear of hurting him, a slither of discipline all that remains of my former composure in bed. Now I need not worry for him. I am the one who will bruise, and I find, much as Kit does, I want to know I’ve really been fucked.

Kit’s breath is hot on my neck as he says, “I can’t hold back, I can’t hold back,” and then there’s a grunt, the pulse of his cock and a flood of warmth deep inside me.

I haven’t come. Without the magic I’ve had to wait, and though I’m close, I’m not there. He withdraws exhausted but he’s not forgotten me and his fingers replace his cock, using his seed to ease his way. He quickly finds his mark and massages me, and I spend within moments, losing myself onto the sheets.

Kit pauses but doesn’t remove his fingers. “Again?” he asks, almost nervous.

If I had my magic, of course. Over and over again.

I don’t have my magic, and though I could bring it back in an instant and pretend all I like, I won’t. But I have wanted to see him come more than once and it thrills me to know he’s imagined the same from me.

“Again.”

He shifts position, lifting one of my legs and rolling me onto my back as he slides between my thighs. We kick the sheets away and I’m left naked and exposed, legs splayed wide, my half hard cock still dripping seed. I must look obscene.

Kit is grinning now, the sort of wide, toothy smile I have when a plan goes my way. For a moment I’m nervous, but his fingers never left my body as we moved and he was careful not to hurt me. He could only hurt me if I let him.

I would let him.

When I am positioned as he likes, he starts his massage again. I shudder violently, overstimulated, the agony of heaven rippling through me. This time it aches, I’m tender, sore even, but I’m hardening and it takes very little time for me to come again, this time all over myself.

Kit finally withdraws, looking very pleased with himself. I think he’ll lie down with me but instead he reaches for his cigarettes. One for me and one for him.

“This could be your life,” I say as he hands one to me. I light them both with a thought. He never begrudges me magic for that.

“Doing you up the arse and then smoking half a packet of cigarettes before breakfast?”

“I mean this world. But yes, that too, when I’m not having you.”

“Not too often then,” he quips. Finally he snuggles down next to me and says, “It’s a nice holiday, the best I’ve ever been on, but it’s not real, is it?”

“Of course it is. You can have me all you like. I can make ten clones of you and you can all have a turn, but that will be ten more people to share your cigarettes with afterward.”

Kit smiles. I can tell his heart’s not in it. “I mean, it’s not our realities.”

I’ve learnt never to trust what appears to be real. I love my brother and my home, but I love my freedom too. I have a better chance of happiness here with Kit, even if it only lasts a few decades. “My reality has taken me to many worlds for both good and bad. This is just one more.”

“My reality is trying to cross the road on St Giles around busloads of tourists who are carrying bagfuls of Harry Potter gear and taking pictures of anything over a hundred years old. It’s updating my recipe blog every Sunday night, and pinning two hundred pictures of Tom Daley on Pinterest during my lunch break.”

I have long lived with jealousy and confusion and all Kit has done is given me more of it. “The only part of that I understood is that I have a rival called Tom Daley.”

Kit pets my arm, a comforting stroke designed to appease me. It works.

“Please don’t hurt Tom Daley, he’s only little. I’m just talking about the humdrum parts of my life, that’s all. I miss things being normal.”

That would make me and my life abnormal. Well, that’s no surprise. “You want to live on Midgard?”

Kit takes my hand. “I want to live with you, and you can’t make a home there. But I want to continue my work on Earth too. I want to do my shopping in Marks and Spencer, get the odd sandwich in Pret and see my friends. I don’t want to let that go completely.”

More nonsense that I’ll never get the chance to understand, but as I look around the room I realise I’ve been selfish. This is my paradise, not his. I’ve filled our home with images of my world and expected him to want the same. My palace apartments in Asgard, a beautiful boy I’m madly in love with, and the chance one day he might confess to being madly in love with me. Love and respect are all I’ve ever wanted.

Kit was right: this has been a lovely holiday.

I sigh silently. I don’t want him to hear the disappointment. “If you want your old life, we have to go back and see this through to the end.”

He tenses beside me. “I know.”

“I’ll have to fight.”

“I know.”

“I’ll have to win, and by any means necessary. You understand what I’m saying.”

There’s a long pause. I know he’s asking himself if his freedom on Midgard is worth the lives it might cost—if it is worth my life, even. I’m tempted to remind him this will protect his family, which I feel might be the only thing that will sway him, but he says, “I do.”

And with that, it is decided. My stay in paradise is over.


	33. Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Three

We go to Midgard.

I cloak us, just for the duration of the time we will be at the Hydra facility. Heimdall will be looking for us. It is better he doesn’t see this.

“No matter what I say, no matter what I do or what you see, you must pretend to be under my mind control,” I tell Kit as we materialise in the dome of the stadium.

He’s fiddling with his collar, dressed for the first time in weeks in his own Midgardian clothes, though I’ve conjured a gold coronet for him to wear, a simple headpiece decorated with two miniature horns. I cannot resist marking him out as mine.

I’m dressed all in black—a smart Midgardian suit, just as I wore to the opera. Kit said he liked me in this style once and I find it hard not to dress as such regularly, though I still prefer my leathers.

Now, however, I want to look relaxed, relatively speaking. I’m not going to intimidate John Edbury. I want to look as if I’m ready to make a deal.

“What if I see John?” Kit murmurs.

I brush my hand over his soft hair. “You will have to pretend not to know him. I can take control of you if it makes things easier for you but—” I look down at him affectionately, “—I respect your mind too much to poke around in it.”

He smiles, gives a soft little snort. “Thanks, I think.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t do that anymore anyway. Not without noble intentions.”

For a moment I’m reminded that I have been dubbed a monster, and all the terrible things in my past come back to me. I had so little care for human lives, born of years spent living as their god. They pray to you, but you can’t help them. They all die in the end. My heart hardened and when I cracked it meant nothing to use them for my purposes. I didn’t enjoy what I did in New York, the humans who died were just the collateral damage in my own private war.

Kit bites his lip and watches me, as if he can see the eternal shame I carry inside. He nods. “I know you’re better than that. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

I can hear footsteps, and I whisper, “Take my hand.”

He does, just as agents round the corner, ready to take us to the facility below.

*****

Kit plays his part well. He’s pretending to be under my control and assumes I’d have him all over me. I wouldn’t, but it suits my purposes for John to think I would.

We sit in the meeting room this time. Me at the head of the table, Kit on my lap, arms around my neck as he rubs his nose against my hair and cheek, looking for a kiss I won’t give him.

When others talk to him, he looks at them blankly, as if he’s never seen them before, though I know he must recognise the agents. It’s better that way because they know he has no love of their organisation. Now they must assume he is controlled by force rather than fear.

John enters and sees me in the seat he would surely choose to occupy. He looks at Kit who ignores him entirely, focusing instead on nuzzling into my neck and giving me small, featherlight kisses.

“Back so soon?” John asks, looking at his watch and then darting a nervous glance towards Kit. Barely two hours must have passed here but we have lived much in that short time.

“Soon? It’s been weeks for us in the Quantum Realm.” I say it as if I expected him to know my plans. “You do know what the Quantum Realm is, don’t you?”

“The Microverse?” he asks, and I’ll give him that that is another name for it. “What were you doing there?”

“Extending my decision-making time. Kit is due to return to your planet in four days. I needed a little more time to think about whether or not he’d be worth giving up my comfy life on Asgard for.”

“Is he?”

“Not quite.”

Kit’s arms grip my neck tighter, the first response he’s shown and one at least that isn’t visible. I pull him closer and turn my lips to his briefly, giving him a small peck of a kiss. “He’s lovely,” I say, looking into his eyes, almost grateful for the blank stare Kit gives me in return, “But he’s just a human.”

I turn my attention back to John and ask, “I know only two hours have passed on this realm, but has my last request been dealt with?”

A trickle of sweat drips down John’s forehead. “Yes.”

“Excellent. Kit, this man has something to tell you about your previous lover.”

I regret it the moment I say it, not because I think Kit will let me down, but because it might hurt for him to even look at John. I take his hand and squeeze it, silently urge that I’m sorry. As Kit looks towards John, I turn his face back to mine and say, “No. I want to see your face.”

John clears his throat. “Your ex is dead, Agent Wilson. He was killed while trying to escape this morning.”

Kit ignores his words, bringing his hand up to stroke my cheek. He murmurs, “I love you, Loki.”

My stomach somersaults, but I’m careful to keep the joy from my face. I don’t even know if he means it or if this is merely another part of the plan, or even a means to hurt John. Kit could have picked a better moment, perhaps this morning when he was buried deep inside my body or the day before when I was inside of his. He might have told me at breakfast. He might have told me sat on the damned lavatory for all I care, I’d rather have heard it when I could be absolutely sure.

But it’s nice to hear it again, truth or not, and he looks into my eyes as he says the words. I’m awestruck by him: his beauty, his bravery, the pure goodness in him that might allow him to fall in love with a man like me. He gave me a second chance at life and love. He’s everything to me.

However, I can’t say it back, not here, not now, and I’m grateful he already knows. “Good boy,” I murmur, running a possessive hand up his thigh.

“Agent Wilson?” John asks. “John is dead. You don't seem very sad about it?”

“I've got a new boyfriend now,” Kit replies.

I allow myself a grin and turn it on John. “Mind control is a beautiful thing, isn't it?”

John can’t keep the look of distaste from his face, as if his method of controlling Kit had been that much better. I despise him all the more and pray that if I’m not the one to kill him, I’ll at least capture the bastard. I’ll want him to know I’ve betrayed him, and that Kit loves me no matter what.

“So, now you have what you want,” John says, relaxing now he thinks Kit will be unable to incriminate him. “Have you got something for us in return?”

“Yes, but it’s not the Tesseract.”

“Something better?”

“No.” When John huffs I say, “It's a trade for one human male. What did you expect?”

“You were offered control of territories.”

“Now I want all of Midgard, not the scraps.”

John looks to Kit again and I wonder if he’s planning to ask for him back. But he says, “You think you can rule the whole Earth?”

“Kit has shared some details of your governments. The American states have representatives but the president has control nationally. That could be applied elsewhere.”

“You want to be president of Earth?”

I ignore the incredulous tone of John’s question and the snort that follows when I say, “I want to be King.” John shakes his head in disbelief, but I continue, “I want to be the visible figurehead. I want statues built in my honour and executions in my name.”

“You want your dick stroked?”

I look to Kit who smiles and reaches down between my legs to the leather of my trousers. I let him rub me but I don’t allow myself to become hard. “Naughty boy,” I say this time, voice dripping with indulgence. “As you can see, Mr Edbury, I've already got someone that can do that very nicely. I merely want the recognition and respect if rule. I won't be able to control everything and there will be plenty of opportunities for others in important roles. There will be room for advancement for men like you, and there will be a lot of gold.”

I spread my legs a little wider and kiss Kit full on the mouth now, long and lingering. When I withdraw I tell him, “You, my pet, will have immortality. You’ll be a king beside me. Would you like that?”

“I love you, Loki,” he says again.

John is scowling now. “Do we get the Tesseract?” he demands, visibly frustrated by our affectionate display even if he doesn’t believe it to be real.

I don’t bother looking at him. “Eventually you'll get everything in Odin's armoury. That includes the Tesseract.”

“Eventually?”

“I’m not going to hand over the most powerful weapon in the universe until my position as King is secured,” I scoff. “It’s a surprise you want my help at all if that is your opinion of my intelligence. I’ll keep hold of the Tesseract, and in the meantime you may have another weapon more powerful than anything on Midgard.”

This piques John’s interested. “Did you bring it with you?”

“What do you think?”

He fixes a smile. I wonder if he regrets making a deal with a trickster god, but it’s too late now. I have knowledge of his base of operations, I have his boy, and I’ll weaken his entire organisation before I’m done.

“Of course you haven’t. When can you make the delivery?”

“When can you arrange my rally?”

“Rally?”

“Let's start as we mean to go on,” I say, leaning forward, a wide, toothy grin spreading across my face. “I want to meet my army, up in that stadium above our heads. Then I will present my weapon to you all.”

I know he’s not high enough up in the organisation to call upon every Hydra agent across the globe. This is his power grab: an ambitious alliance that will set him above the men that command him now, should it play out well. Of course, it won’t.

“I can’t fill the O2,” he says. “That seats twenty-thousand.”

“Perhaps not with your facility’s men alone, but there must be others. You said you’d offer me numbers. Let me see them.” I lean back now casually and remind him, “You’re asking me to take a lot on trust too. I want to know how many men you have and how quickly you can mobilise them. Right now, you’re just a lot of talk.”

I pat Kit, nudging him from my lap and he stands, keeping his eyes on me, expression blank even if his actions and words have all been adoring. It’s an excellent bluff, and I’m proud of him. If things were different, maybe we could have made mischief together. Not villainy, not him, but lies don’t always have to be for a bad cause.

“I’ll give you three days,” I say to John, rising from my chair. “I’ll return at midnight on Monday. I believe that gives you...” I check the clock on the wall, “eighty-one hours. That’s plenty of time to rally your troops for my inspection.”

John doesn’t agree but he doesn’t say no, just looks upon me with a blank expression. I can see the wheels turning behind his eyes, his mind weighing up the pros and the cons of what he has invited. I’m certain he’ll make the arrangements. I’m not so certain I’ll be able to meet my obligations. That all depends on Thor.

I take hold of Kit’s hand and we disappear, teleporting again to a hotel room to ditch our clothes. This time I take him to the Dorchester and we find the Harlequin suite empty.

I’m feeling good, great even. I chuckle to myself as I strip but Kit remains clothed, going instead to raid the complimentary items: tea, sweet biscuits, soaps and shampoos, a toothbrush, tossing them onto the bed.

“We can visit a shop before we leave,” I tell him, “You needn’t steal such a meagre supply. Undress and I’ll give you some fresh clothes. Nothing they can track.”

He stops collecting and undresses as I’ve commanded, but he says nothing. It’s as if he really is under my mind control spell.

“Kit? Is there something wrong?”

He looks up at me with fear in his eyes. “You're going to kill hundreds, maybe even thousands of people when all we ought to do is expose John and the base.”

If just we two knew, that might be acceptable, but the time when we could have done so has been and gone. I have to think about Kit’s family, his friends, his reputation on Midgard, and his freedom. Thor will want more than that if he’s to believe we are reformed.

“I told you, I must fight and I must win, but I won’t personally kill volumes of men. That’s a job for the Avengers.”

“They should go to trial.”

“Maybe they will. Let’s see what Tony Stark and his merry band decide to do with them.”

“And what are we going to do?”

I swallow my pride. “We are going to ask my brother for help.”


	34. Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Four

Travelling physically between our plane of existence and the Quantum Realm can be tiring, and direct teleportation between two places even more so. The longer a spell lasts, the further I must travel, the greater the effort I must expend to bend the universe to my will.

Then there’s the cloaking spell I used on the Hydra facility, creating a blur of darkness to anyone in the universe who chose to spy on it, Heimdall included.

I am tired. Not in body or spirit, but I need to rest and restore some of the reserves of energy I need for such powerful magic. That leaves us two options to take us back to Asgard. Either we go to the portal or I call the Bifrost.

I’m almost surprised Thor doesn’t appear before I can do the latter. I take Kit shopping, stock up on the things we might need for a stay in Odin’s dungeon—mostly cigarettes. Kit smokes less than he did when he kept his secrets, but enough that I’d be worried about him if he had to do without. He’ll need the comfort, and I doubt I’ll be able to make and give any to Kit while we’re there.

Finally, we walk to a park. We’re hand in hand and no one pays any attention to us at all. Perhaps Midgard is not such a terrible place now after all—bits of it, anyway.

Kit has travelled in the Bifrost before; it’s how he arrived in Asgard, after all. Still, he looks nervous. I conjure his bag from my hidden stores and fill it with the treats we’ve bought him before I place it over his shoulder.

“In case we are parted,” I say as I take his hands.

“Sakaar?” He sounds nervous, though my description of my time there has been nothing but positive, the Grandmaster’s personal attentions aside.

“On Asgard. I expect we will be due a stay in the dungeons.”

I’m not sure Kit ever really believed me before, or if he fully understood the implications of returning to Asgard. What had once been gallows humour had become our heads in the noose. This might be the end of us, figuratively if not literally.

“Make Thor keep us together,” he says, gripping my hands. “And make him protect my family.”

I hope Heimdall is relaying all of this to Thor. What better way for them to know the truth than see it all like this?

“I can’t do anything now,” I say to Kit. “You wanted reality. This is it.”

In Asgard, they’re definitely listening. I don’t have to call for the Bifrost, it opens for me, pulling Kit and I up through the vast reaches of space in moments. I’ve done this journey hundreds of times, often not knowing what situation might await me at the end after a particularly good trick. I’ve done it knowing I’ll go to the dungeon when I arrive. I’ve done it during peace and agitation, in happiness and misery. I’ve done it alone and I’ve done it with friends, back when I had them. This is the first time I’ve never wanted the journey to end.

Kit loosens his grip on one hand, letting go to wrap his arm around my waist instead. I pull him close, and when he is confident enough, we do the same with our other hands. Finally, wrapped in each other’s embrace, we kiss.

It’s perfect, the feeling of his slight body in my arms, his soft lips against mine. It’s a finite pleasure now and all the more meaningful for it.

I thought I loved him this morning. Laid out in our bed in Atlantis, full of his fingers and his seed, I felt like the sky could fall, and I would die a happy man in that bed. But it was not like this. Now I can see him being torn from my arms, feel the helplessness of our situation. Yes, I could fight for him, but it would only put him in more danger and I must play a longer game if I’m to keep Kit safe. I suspect Thor will protect Kit’s parents as a mere cautionary measure, but what he’ll do for us two I cannot say. Whatever he decides, I will live with it. It is the only way to regain my brother’s trust.

When the Bifrost spits us out into the observatory, Thor is waiting for us, tossing his hammer in the air. Beside him is Heimdall, a look of slight distaste on his lips, which I am sure is more to do with witnessing our sexual exploits earlier than having any objection to our performing them. He doesn’t seem inclined towards love affairs at all, men or women. I imagine All Sight is a curse when it comes to matters of the loins and the heart.

The Warriors Three come next. They are, at least, sober on this meeting, though they look as worse for wear as Thor had when I saw him all those weeks ago. Only hours have passed on this plane, and they are probably suffering the same hangover he did.

Finally, the Lady Sif, who stares at the pair of us with barely concealed impatience. Looking at the state of the other three, she no doubt expects to do all of the work today.

I always thought she’d have made a good lover. Strong, intelligent, ravishing good looks... I’m all those things. Why didn’t she like me? But, the feeling was never mutual. With Kit in my arms, I could hardly say things didn’t work out for the best, even under our present circumstances.

“Hogun, Sif,” Thor says, “Escort young Christopher to the dungeons, would you? I want to have a word with my brother before he takes up residence in his old cell again.”

Kit clings tightly to me. I smooth his hair, kiss the tears that squeeze from the corners of his eyes. “It will be all right,” I murmur to him. “You don’t have to be afraid of my brother. He’s a good man.”

I don’t know if Thor recognises the irony in my words, if he remembers he once said similar about me to Kit.

After another kiss, Kit eventually let's go, hands free now to reach into his pocket for the cigarettes. I watch them lead him away: no chains, Kit’s hands trembling as he attempts to work his lighter. With a thought, I light the cigarette and he stops, surprised, looking back at me. Then Hogun takes hold of his arm and pulls him away.

Vollstag and Fandral come to stand either side of me, one an enormous beast of a man, the other an embarrassing fop. Neither of them could take me in a fight, and I’m sure they know it. Heimdall remains at his post, silent, perhaps watching Midgard, perhaps following Kit back to the palace.

Thor comes to stand in front of me, a pair of cold iron chains in his hand. I hold out my wrists and allow him to shackle me without protest. I am patient with him, not pathetically meek nor violent tempered at being made impotent. It’s hard, it goes against my every nature not to protest the treatment, but I do it for Kit and for Thor.

“You’re losing your touch, Loki,” Thor says as he locks my chains.

“Because I let you catch me?”

“You’ve made it too easy for me to believe it’s not what you’ve wanted all along.”

He’s got a point, and there is a part of me, the showman, who’d like to have fought for Kit when we arrived. Some dramatic gesture, so Thor could see how much I love the lad. But circumstances are what they are.

“I’ve neither the time nor the desire to delay our meeting. Either you’ll listen to what I have to say and believe me or you won’t. Better to get it over with.”

Thor steps back from me now, crossing his arms and raising an incredulous eyebrow. “That was unusually honest and direct for you, brother. It must be a lie.”

I am a habitual liar, there’s no question about that, but Thor’s disapproval is like a stab in my heart. I don’t let him see how much his tone hurts me. My tears never changed anything in the past. Why would they now?

I hate him again. I despise him. I have loved him so much yet here we are once more because I dared to be happy. Rage and pain bubble within me, and worst of all the little voice that says he’s right to be suspicious and I have brought this upon myself.

Face a mask, I say, “Will one of you show me to my room?”

Thor’s incredulity turns to a scowl. He nods to Fandral and Volstagg who step forward, tugging on my chains. I walk with them, head held high, unafraid.

But when we reach the city, I give in to shame. The people, our people, _my_ people stare at me as I walk past them. There are whispers and many hurry to get out the way, but others stand and watch as I am led through the town.

“Purely a precaution,” Thor says to them as we pass. “Loki has done nothing wrong we know of yet.”

I think of the old woman who was kind to me the day I was happy. I think of her brats and the price of wool. If I ever get out of this, I’ll make sure she receives ten bales of it, and sweets for all the children.

As we approach the palace, Thor asks, “Where have you been?”

“The Quantum Realm.”

“What’s that?”

I fix my face with an expression of contempt at his ignorance and hold the pose until he looks at me.

“Well?” he demands. “What is it?”

“Why don’t you ask your friend Strange? He was there too. The man is obsessed with me.”

“Why did you go there? What’s there? A weapon?”

“I’d tell you but you won’t believe me. So, as I said, go ask Strange. I’ll wait.”

Inside the palace, Thor doesn’t leave us. He falls into step beside me as we hurry through the halls and I can tell he’s thinking about what I’ve told him, trying to determine whether or not I’m lying. He will never know if he doesn’t do as I say.

I’m taking a big gamble. Strange is no friend of mine, though we left each other on good enough terms. Finding out I’m back and in the dungeons, he might revert to his former belief that I’m still a danger to his world. I have to hope he’ll trust me.

Soon we reach the dungeons. I still think of them as Odin’s though Thor is in charge now. I’m given the corner cell again, the best of all of them, if one could be said to be preferable. Kit is in the opposite cell, already locked inside. It’s an enormous empty space and he looks tiny in it. Mine has already been filled with my furniture and some books but Kit has been afforded nothing.

“Loki!” Kit says, running towards the wall of energy.

“Don’t!” Thor and I shout at the same time. For a moment I’m stunned, but Thor ignores our twin reaction and dashes in front of Kit. “The field will hurt you,” he barks. “Stay well back.”

Kit nods to him, an inch from the wall. Then our eyes meet again and I see his fear. “This will all be all right,” I tell him. “Let Thor do what he must.”

I’m let into my cell where Thor unlocks my chains. “What has Strange to do with all this?” he asks. “Is he part of Hydra?”

“Strange?” I laugh. The thought is genuinely absurd to me. “You really don’t trust anyone, do you?”

“I wonder why.”

Bastard. I’m glad when he leaves and the energy field flickers into life.

The Warriors remain. They settle in to watch us both for the evening, and I have to let them.

Kit lights up another cigarette.

****

Hours pass before Thor returns but he does come to me again, sliding wearily into a chair just outside my cell. He glances over his shoulder at Kit who is asleep on the cold floor of his cell and then turns his attention to me.

“It’s time I had the truth,” he mutters.

“You’ve spoken to Strange?”

“He confirmed you met.”

“And?”

“And that time moves differently in the Quantum Realm. He said that you could have spent weeks there before he arrived and after he left, and he had no idea what you might have done in that time.”

That son of a whore would still sell me out and my own brother takes his word over mine. I’ve been trying to remain calm, to work with Thor, not against him, and still I’m considered less reliable than a petty illusionist from Midgard. I should have left that bastard Strange to die and taken his stone. I curse myself for being too weak to do it now, too nice. “He met us at the damned opera. Kit was clad in lingerie and Strange couldn’t keep his eyes off of him. What sort of mischief do you think we were up to?”

“When this is all over, we need to talk about boundaries,” Thor says, wrinkling his nose. “I’ve found out far too much about your lovers today. Listen, he did mention you wanted a fresh start.”

“Wanted one? I had one until Strange showed up and wrecked things. I was happy.”

Thor looks back over his shoulder again at my sleeping lover. “What about Kit?”

“Oh, he’d have come back here eventually but it would have taken years, not hours.” I sound bitter. I am bitter. “We could’ve had something of a life together.”

“I dare say you’ll share many happy times in the dungeon together,” Thor says, rising from his seat and walking towards the barrier. He leans on the stone wall in the corner and looks in at me as if I’m some caged beast he’ll admire for a moment before moving on with his life.

I say nothing, but I begin to pace the floor. I’m full of anger and energy.

Thor says, “Why don't you conjure up another you for company?”

I could cast an illusion in this space but I couldn’t summon Lopt. There are too many dampening spells here, though Thor probably doesn’t know that. I doubt he knows much about how the dungeons work at all.

My stupid, careless brother. It is contemptible that he should be king while I am cast as a villain time and time again. He has had me back in the dungeons the first chance he got, and for no more crime than falling in love.

“Why can't you let me be happy for once?” I demand, finally giving in to my fury and letting my emotions have free reign. “I changed for you, no one else. And you treat me no differently in return.”

Thor steps to the middle of the barrier field so I can see his face clearly. His expression is thunderous. Folding his arms across his chest, he barks, “You're back to your old tricks, don't deny it! I trusted you and you let me down again. Don’t think you can turn this back on me.”

“You’ve locked me up without proof of any wrongdoing.”

“A precautionary measure.” 

“A simple solution to the Loki problem,” I spit. “I know that’s what I am. Your citizens are wary of me and your allies are terrified of me. Now at least you can lock me away and tell yourself you did the right thing.”

“That is not true.”

“Then why am I here?” I roar. “Why is he here?” I stab my finger towards Kit who is sitting up in his cell watching us silently. He’s wide-eyed, terrified it seems. I don’t know which of us he is afraid of but we must make a frightening pair. I’m pacing, fists clenched beside me, anger writ plainly on my face. Thor almost looks composed in comparison, though the sparks shooting out of his fingers tell another story.

“Kit is a criminal,” Thor growls

“No,” Kit says, pulling himself from the floor and over to his window. “Loki, tell him. Please!”

Thor settles back into his chair again, though I know he’s aware of Kit’s presence behind him. “Tell me what?”

This is the moment I’ve been avoiding since I discovered who Kit really was. Before this there was always hope I could do more to make Thor believe us but time is up now. He’ll trust me or he won’t. I can hardly have made a good impression here.

I sit down on the floor in front of him, curling my long legs beneath me. I need to appear unthreatening. “Do you know why I returned here?” I ask. “Have you or any of your key advisers manager to work that out yet?”

“The armoury?” Thor says with a shrug. “Which is off limits to you now, by the way.”

“I came back for you. I’m here to ask your help.”

“I am helping. I'm keeping you away from Him.”

Thor doesn’t look at Kit, but I do. I see him recoil, shaking his head. “No, no, no,” he whispers.

“I don’t want to be a part of Hydra. I— _We_ want help taking out one of their facilities and as many of their operatives as possible. We can’t do it without you.”

Now Thor looks back at Kit, every bit as suspicious of him as he is of me. “I'm listening.”

I take a deep breath. “I have offered them weaponry in exchange for control over Midgard. Hear me out! They're organising a rally in my name to be held at an Arena in London in two nights. Hundreds if not thousands of members of Hydra will be present. “

“And you plan to take out an army by yourself?”

If anyone could, it would be me. But my reputation on Midgard will be significantly improved by an association with the Avengers. Far better that this is seen as a victory for good against evil than a massacre.

“I’ve brought them to you. You and your little group of Avengers can do what you like with them. But I’ll stand beside you. I want revenge on the man who manipulated and used Kit.”

“So he is part of Hydra?”

“Unwillingly.” I explain the circumstance and Thor listens, his eyes on Kit who sits fiddling with an unlit cigarette, staring at his feet.

“A lover in Hydra and now you,” Thor says when I’m done. “Christopher has a type, doesn’t he?”

As far as I can see, all Kit has is terrible luck. “I like to think I’m far more handsome than John,” I quip.

Thor rolls his eyes but gives me half a smile. “You should have come to me sooner.”

“You’d have thrown Kit in here and never let him out. I know you too well, brother.”

“And I know you. How can I be sure this isn't a trap?”

“I’ve no proof it's not. You’ll have to trust me.”

Thor looks across at Kit again, then back at me. He’s thinking very carefully about this, which is as big an insult as if he’d called me a liar to my face, but it is what it is and I must accept it.

“Have Heimdall watch John, that will give you the truth of it. He’s based in a secret underground facility below the arena in London. He called himself Jonathan Edbury. What was it called, Kit?”

“O2.” Kit stares at the wall. He looks exhausted.

“That’s the one.”

Thor leaves us. He’s gone only a few minutes when a guard drops the field barrier on Kit’s cell and lets him out.

“What’s happening?” I shout. “Thor! What’s happening?”

Kit is nudged towards my cell and then my own barrier opens.

“You’re to share, your highness,” the guard says, bowing his head respectfully despite my current situation. He’s brave. I could kill him. I could run. These must be Thor’s orders, and I know this is much a test of my character as any eyes on John will be.

I put my hands up, walk slowly towards Kit who, once in my cell, runs into my embrace. The barrier shuts behind him and our chance to flee or fight is gone.

“Thank God,” Kit says, squeezing me tightly.

“No need to thank me.” I pull him as close as I can, nuzzle his face into my neck as if I can imprint him on my body.

“Can I kiss you?” Kit asks, “Is that allowed? I want to kiss you.”

“Yes.”

I turn my lips to his, drink his kisses like wine. We’ve only been separated for a few hours but they were far too long for my liking.

Finally I let him go and then, as I step back to lead him to my chaise, I see the guard remains before us, watching us both.

“You can leave now,” I say. “Thank you.”

“I’m to remain, your highness. It’s the King’s orders.”

A little privacy was too much to hope for.

“Fine.” I don’t disguise my voice and he can tell it is not.

“I’m sorry, your highness,” he murmurs.

Coward. “Quite all right,” I promise, determined to be the benevolent prince. It almost feels crueller, drawing out his fear, though it’s baseless.

I sit down next to Kit and wrap an arm around him, shuffling him close to me. “We’re together. That’s better than we hoped.”

Kit nods, rubbing one eye with the heel of his palm. “What will happen when it's all over, though?”

An excellent question. We have lied to Thor and he owes us nothing, even if we’re forgiven. “I don't know. You were originally supposed to return to Midgard, weren’t you?”

Kit turns his head up, buries his face in my neck. “If I have to go, will Thor let you come see me?”

“He can try and stop me if he wants.”

“What will you do if he does?”

“I don’t know.” But I do. The decision is long since made. I already made up my mind to abandon everything for Kit. If I had to fight my way out of here to be with him permanently, I would.

Kit reaches up, grips the hair on the back of my head with his hand. I’m surprised, but I let him angle my face, turning my head so I’m staring into his eyes now. He looks desperate but there’s a seriousness about him I cannot deny.

“I want to stay,” he says. “If this all means I can’t have both my life on Earth and a life with you, I choose you. I choose you. Just please, make Thor keep my parents safe, even if I’ll never see them again. Let them call me a terrorist on Earth, I don’t care what they say, just don’t let anyone hurt my mum and dad.”

Suddenly there’s a change. The barriers flicker and darken until they are fully opaque gold. At first I think we’ve been given the maximum setting because we’re dangerous, then I realise what Thor is doing.

“They’re giving us privacy?” Kit asks, looking at the walls. “Can I kiss you again?”

“No.” I rise from my seat on the chaise and walk around the room looking for a space in the barrier. “We’re not alone here. They’re still watching, listening. This isn’t for our benefit.” When I turn back to Kit, he’s got his head in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” I say hastily, returning to my seat and wrapping an arm around him. “You wanted affection? Of course you may have it.” I squeeze his shoulder gently. “I’ve spent too long over the centuries aching for comforts like this. I’ll never deny you.”

When he doesn’t respond, I shift, letting go of his body so I may take his face in my hand. “A kiss,” I murmur. “You wanted a kiss.”

I lean towards him, but as I reach his lips, he stops me with three words. “I love you. Whatever happens in the morning, I want you to know that I honestly did love you. I think I loved you from the moment you walked into the library.”

This time I’ve no questions about the truth of it. He means it, I’m finally sure. It should be bittersweet, knowing our position, but it’s the loveliest thing I ever heard.

I smile, nuzzle my nose against his. “I loved you from the moment you acknowledged me. Not many men will do that these days.”

“They’ve not had the benefit of spending time with you. Or hearing Thor stand up for you. He helped me understand.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about him doing that again.”

I feel a weight lift from my body. They’re removing the iron from beneath the cell. Perhaps Thor does know how this place works. He can’t lift the spells—only I am powerful enough to do that, and I must be on the other side of the walls—but the iron’s removal eases the burden on me somewhat. I could let my magic go and relax, but I’d rather not. Hobbled or not, no power in the universe could stop all my magical abilities.

I now suspect I could conduct minor spells. I will be able to double the size of my chaise so we can spend the night together in comfort if nothing else. And I can still cast illusions if we want true privacy. I’m not sure even Heimdall could see through that.

But tonight, for once in my life, I want my brother to understand me. So I make our bed, and Kit and I lay down together to sleep.


	35. Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Five

I wake to find Thor sat in a chair inside the cell sleeping peacefully, though he does not look comfortable. The field is down, and though the guards remain, they pay us no mind and patrol the cells further down.

I sit up slowly, careful not to rouse Kit, and tiptoe to the edge of the room to look outside. It doesn’t appear to be a trick or a trap but I’m suspicious.

“You’re free to go back to your rooms,” Thor says, startling me. I turn to see him yawning heavily, and then he corrects himself. “Room, I suppose. Heimdall told me Kit was going to move into your apartments before you ran.” He yawns again. “Sorry, it’s been a very long night.”

“Why the change of heart?”

I expect Thor to say Heimdall turned his eyes on Hydra but Thor responds, “Young Christopher doesn’t seem terribly dangerous. Even under your influence.”

“He’s not.”

“And I think he really does love you.” I smile at Thor and he adds, “I’m very happy for you. It’s such a pity he is supposed to be leaving in a couple of days.”

“Yes. About that...”

Thor yawns again. He’s the happiest and most relaxed I’ve seen him for a while. “You still want me to talk to the Midgardian witch leader?”

“That would be very helpful.” 

“Fine. But Christopher gets the last word. If they agree to an extension, I’ll offer him one, but it’s up to him, not you. You can’t keep him here just because you want him.”

I drop my voice low, though Kit is still sleeping, and murmur, “If you could visit his parents and bring them here to make all the necessary arrangements for marriage, I'd be much obliged.” That will bring them under our protection too.

Thor pulls himself from the chair and approaches me. He comes to a stop beside me, next to the bed, and looks down at Kit. “You're serious about this boy, aren't you? As your brother, I'm obliged to remind you once again that you hardly know him.”

“But I know his heart. I have it.”

Thor wraps his arms around me and gives me a brotherly hug. “You’ve spent the best part of a millennia rejecting sentiment but deep down you’re still a softhearted bastard, aren’t you, Loki? You don’t know how glad I am of that.” He pats my back, then steps back and says, “Now, what shall we do about Hydra?”

We walk to the edge of the cell together and sit down on the cold stone of the surround. I’m ready for another hard sell and with Thor so cheerful, this feels like a good time.

“They want the Tesseract,” I say, as if their terms were simple.

Thor barks out a laugh. “I’m sorry, you did just say they want the Tesseract, didn’t you? No chance.”

“That’s what I told them. But what about the Casket of Ancient Winters?”

“I’m not giving them a relic!”

“Neither am I. No one on Midgard can use it. No one but me could use it here, remember. But, it might be a good way to stop an army of Hydra operatives.”

Thor narrows his eyes. I know he’s picturing an eternal winter snow storm blowing out of the casket. In the wrong hands it could devastate the entire city of London in just a few hours. That was how the Jötunnn used it.

My people massacred villages that way. It’s only right I use it for good now.

“Well?” I press.

“Would it be a fair fight? You’d cripple them.”

“I’d do better than that.” I’m thinking of stopping their threat permanently, but not necessarily killing them all. Thor seems to be thinking the opposite.

“Not with me. I’ll look a thousand men in the eye and kill them in battle but not with a weapon like this.”

“Who says we have to kill them?”

“Mortals die when you freeze them. They’re not like us.”

“I know that. Let’s just say they will be too snowed under to be able to escape.”

Thor looks at me blankly.

“It’s an expression they have on Midgard,” I explain. “It means they’ll be too busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Dealing with the snow. It’s a pun.”

“Oh yes, very good,” Thor says, patting my shoulder. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to get a bit more sleep and then I’m going to round up everyone I can for the fight. John expects fourteen hundred men. Even with the casket, we’re going to need every hand we can get.”

“And Kit’s parents?” I ask.

“I’ll send Sif and the warriors to protect them. That’s what Kit wants, isn’t it? We can discuss everything else when this is over.”

He leaves, and I return to Kit who is lying on the bed. He’s awake and he smiles at me as I approach.

“I thought your joke was funny,” he says.

“I knew you were a man of great humour and intelligence.”

I extend a hand and help him off the bed. He yawns and stretches, then rubs a hand through his hair. “I need a shower and clean teeth. A real shower,” he adds, before I can offer to magic away his morning breath and fix his hair, which is sticks haphazardly up from his head.

I smooth it down with my hand instead, bringing my fingertips to rest beneath his chin. “Quickly then. We’ve breakfast in the hall soon.”

He groans slightly, snaking his arm through mine and allowing me to lead him from the cell. I walk with my head held high, vindicated after only one night in the dungeons and Kit walks beside me, oblivious to the stares we receive. He comes from a place where he could enjoy a degree of anonymity but there’s nothing like that on Asgard, especially not for a prince like me. Everyone knows everyone else’s business, and my business is the stuff of legend. At least I am free now. Our people might be inclined to think Thor is the one at fault today.

We make it to my apartment without incident, and after a quick toilet, we head for the Hall where breakfast and the stares of the court await.

It’s noisy in the Hall. It always is at meal times, even at breakfast when, traditionally, the least amount of beer is drunk. There is talk and laughter. Plenty of gossip.

We enter, and I conduct Kit to the top table today. He’s never sat there before but he follows me dutifully. I think he knows now that this will be his place.

A hush falls as we walk. I ignore it but Kit pauses and looks at the people, most of whom will not meet his eyes. Now he must realise that this is far from over. He is tainted by his association with me, here as much as he will be on Midgard. Before it was temporary, a working relationship that became intimate briefly on a night when many try out a new lover. Now they must know what we are to each other.

I stop and wait for him. The silence is deafening.

“Come on,” I say gently, resting a hand on his back to shuffle him along. “Let them eat.”

My words have broken then silence and others follow suit, returning to their gossip and porridge.

I nudge Kit and he takes off at apace, striding to the top table and standing near the centre of it, instinctively avoiding not just Thor’s seat, but mine too. He places himself where, I assume, he might reasonably expect my partner to be. My husband. The realisation makes me a little dizzy. I’ve never had a lover be so bold.

Then he bangs his fist on the table, commanding the attention of the whole room.

“We did nothing wrong,” he shouts. “Nothing! So whatever you’re sat there thinking this morning, you can bloody well stop it. Only a handful of us really know what went on and that doesn’t include any of you.”

Perhaps it’s not the best way to address a people he is not part of, particularly as his only claim to the seat right now is that he has been to bed with me, another outsider squatting in the royal court. But no one challenges him and he sits down at the table. I come sit beside him, conjuring a cup of boiling water for him to take tea.

“Do you feel better for that?” I ask, giving him a wry smile when he scowls at me.

“I thought it was over but it’s not, is it?”

“If we are lucky, it will pass in a few decades. Centuries maybe, if we’re not. They will forget eventually, unless I play a particularly cruel trick or a nice one backfires on me. Until then you’ll have to bask in my reflected disrepute.”

He reaches across and takes my hand, gives me half a smile. I know we’re in this together.

“I haven’t got that long,” he says with a sigh. “At least I’ve got you.”

“You have millennia while you are here with me, I promise you that. But perhaps I’ll regain some favour in the battle with Hydra and we needn’t be outcasts forever.”

His hand tightens around mine until it’s a harsh squeeze. “You’re not really going to fight again?”

“You know I have to.”

“But you don’t now Thor knows.”

His Avengers will take care of the numbers but John Edbury is mine. “I have to do this,” I say, lifting Kit’s hand to my face. I rub my cheek against the back of his palm, closing my eyes. “I love you too much to let John get away with what he did to you.”

“The Avengers can deal with it.”

I open my eyes and stare at Kit. “I will deal with it. I won’t hurt him, won’t kill him, but I will make sure he sees justice. He won’t escape.”

I’d kill for Kit in a heartbeat, capturing the man who used him is nothing to me, but I can see his fear in the wildness of his eyes and the pallor of his cheeks. “Please, Loki, please for once let someone else take the risk.”

“Hydra are assembling for me. I have to be there. But believe me, I’ll be going in armed and shielded. Nothing can hurt me.”

We pick at our breakfasts. I expect to go to the library when we’re done, but as I lead Kit towards it, he takes my arm and pulls me to a stop. “Let’s go out. Take your boat.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“The mountains or the villages. Anywhere but here.”

We won’t escape ourselves out there. Word travels fast throughout my small homeworld. They’ll know we spent the night in the dungeon.

But we needn’t speak to anyone. I send Kit to my balcony and return to him with the boat a short while later. On the balcony I line the boat with furs, building the sort of bed I shared with my Midgardian lovers in the old days. Next I conjure food for a picnic, wine to drink our health and happiness, and something special.

We climb in and fly away high up into the sky, skirting the mountain. I stand, directing the boat with practiced ease, and Kit sits, looking out over his new home, the wind blowing his hair wildly about his face.

I steal occasional glances at him, watch him run fingers through his hair, tuck the strands behind his ears, over and over. I could help him with magic but I don’t. I’m beginning to realise the value of small, insignificant inconveniences like that. They’re good for clearing the mind of bigger problems.

Eventually he spots somewhere he’d like to visit and asks me to stop the boat.

It is Idunn’s orchard. She’s the matriarch of a farming family on the far side of the mountain. She was old when I was a boy, and is ancient now, but still going strong from what I gather. My father outlived many of the old gods he called contemporaries, including her husband Bragi. But not Idunn.

She will not mind me stopping at the orchard, and she won’t begrudge us a few apples. They’re small, bitter things that taste better when stewed with honey but I can see to that.

I bring us down amongst the trees, preferring the cover to hide the boat. We’re fifteen minutes walk from the farmhouse, and I doubt anyone saw us drop out of the sky a mile away, or heard us skim just above the ground as we skipped towards the orchard.

I park on the outskirts, and we climb outside to look around. Kit takes my hand as we tour, marvelling at the many trees and the golden fruit that hangs from each of them.

To me, it’s just an orchard. I came here as a boy sometimes with Thor, and we scrumped apples just because we could, not because we wanted the tart fruit. The place has memories, good and bad. When I made up the story about Idunn’s apples, it was merely a pleasing tale. To Kit, it is part of the foundations of our culture. Funny how perspectives differ.

He reaches up and plucks a single piece of fruit from one of the trees. It’s a very small apple, golden-skinned and ripe. Kit inspects it carefully, checking the skin for blemishes and sniffing its perfume.

“It’s sour,” I say, plucking a few more as I stand beside him. “I’ll sweeten it for you.”

He doesn’t immediately hand it over. Instead he sniffs it a little deeper as he picks another. “I know you said it was just a story, but now I’m here it is hard to believe these aren’t magic.”

“Is it hard to believe I’m a god?”

He laughs. “You make an excellent point.”

Back in the boat I stew the apples, conjuring a small cauldron and lighting a flame on my palm which I hold beneath the pot of fruit. Very soon we have a honey-sweetened apples which I serve with no small amount of pride to Kit. Thank you, Freydis Gunnardottir. _Home Cooking for Three_ turned out to be a more useful book than I’d anticipated when I snatched it from the shelf in the library the day I approached Kit.

We sit opposite each other on the skins eating the fruit. We take turns with the spoon and the pot floats in front of us both. Kit is greedy with it and I’m pleased to see him dig in several times before I get my turn.

“It won’t make you live forever,” I tease and he laughs.

“I don’t care about that. I’m eating Idunn’s apples! These are legendary.”

I cough politely and say, “Am I not a legend too?”

“I’ve heard things said about you.”

I let him finish the treat and then we lay down together and stare at the clouds for a while as they pass overhead, snuggling into the soft furs beneath us, Kit resting his head on my shoulder.

So many sweet nights I spent this way, laid between Sigyn and Dag all those centuries ago. Sometimes as a woman, sometimes a man, not always with the intimate parts that are most common to either of those genders, I’d lay there while they held me. They loved me however I built my body, and they loved me without condition. But they chose to remain on Midgard rather than come to my world and look up at the sky. Kit has chosen me.  
And now, he wants to keep me.

“Let’s stay here forever,” Kit says. “We could have a little house of our own instead of living in the palace. You could build one easily, couldn’t you, using your magic?”

Given the energy it would require to make it from thin air, it would be faster to build it by hand, even for me.

“I know why you wanted to come out here,” I say, combing my fingers through the soft strands of his hair. “You’re trying to distract me from what’s going on at the palace.”

I leave it unsaid that I’ve dealt with disapproval for more lifetimes than he can imagine.

I feel his fingers curl tightly around my body, pressing into the leather. “I don’t want you to fight again. I don’t want to lose you.”

Ah. He is forever fearful of the one thing I have absolute confidence in. I sit up, pulling him up with me. I hold his hand, run my thumb over the knuckles. “The mortals have nothing that could destroy a being as powerful as me. That is the simple fact of it. You needn’t fear.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then don’t. But the truth is that I will live and I will love for many years to come, and you will have to put up with me throughout. And when we are done our place in Sessrumnir awaits.”

“Your mother’s hall is for you, not me. What am I supposed to do without you if you get yourself killed?”

I smile. It’s involuntary, brought on by the sentiment as much as the idea. He shoves me, turning away but I catch his arm and snatch him to me. “You are mine for eternity. Don’t you ever worry about that.”

His lips part as he breathes in sharply, then I press my mouth to his, force my possessive tongue into his mouth. He is mine, I need him to know it, need him to feel it.

I feel it. I feel it in the submission he gives in to when his body relaxes against me. I feel it in the way he lets me place him as I wish, lets me touch him. He loves me every bit as much as I do him. We own each other now.

I can’t stay for him but I’ll make sure I come back. Who wouldn’t come back to this?

I lift a hand, wave it towards the control for the boat. It rises up into the air, giving us a little privacy from anyone that might wander by. Then I make love to him high up in the air, all hands and mouths and soft, gentle sighs until he cannot take any more. And then I give him my magic and he doesn’t refuse me. We begin all over again.


	36. Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Six

“Christopher back on Midgard, is he?”

Two days have passed since my afternoon on the boat with Kit. Now we’re back in the palace, I have the casket in my possession, and I’ve summoned Lopt to meet me in the library.

I don’t want to see him. But Thor tells me Hydra expect to have more than a thousand operatives present this evening, and by my reckoning, between the Avengers, Strange, and myself, we will field a mere ten. One more might not seem like much, but one more who can wield the casket would be useful.

“Kit is in our bed,” I mutter. I want Lopt’s strength, but I’m still furious at him.

“Oh good. So why am I here?”

“I need your help.”

Lopt snorts, gesturing to the library that has been a haven of solitude for me for so long before Kit arrived. “I didn’t think you brought me here for company.”

“Tomorrow morning we are going to Midgard to fight Hydra. I want you to join me.”

Anyone else might have laughed in my face at the request but Lopt knows my cheek. It’s his too. “This is the first time you’ve ever acknowledged me,” he says. “Unless you count that last time, with Thor.”

“And Kit. I introduced you to him just as I promised I would.”

Lopt’s face hardens. “You promised to share him.”

“You scared him.”

“You think he hasn’t scared me?”

I try not to think about the things Lopt must feel. I’ve lived with the self-loathing, the jealousy, the aching need to be touched, to be loved. I’ve been the man who’d betray himself for revenge on another. Even without knowing the truth of our lineage, Lopt comes from a time when we were already outcasts. The prince who sired a family of beasts, who had his mouth sewn shut because his word couldn’t be trusted. That’s in both our pasts.

But I know this has scared him. He has nothing but me. Nothing at all, not even life.

I ask him, “Do you remember the first time? When we created you.”

“Yes.” His voice is hard. Bitter. “I remember the sinking feeling when I realised what we'd done.”

“I promised to protect you, didn't I?

“You did.”

I meet his eye. “Now I make no promises.”

Lopt nods almost imperceptibly. He turns his attention to the table where he finds a book. Without looking to see what it is, he picks it up and launches it towards the window, smashing through the glass.

“No promises,” he barks. “Is that because I betrayed you? Because I betrayed us? As if ‘us’ is truly the two of us and not you alone.”

“Because I need your help. Kit needs your help. And somewhere inside that twisted, angry shell of yours is a man who will help us no matter the cost. I know it. I am that man. It is in you.”

It’s also in him to lie and to cheat and to turn on everyone he cares about if he feels unloved. But I won’t sweet talk him, I won’t seduce him to get my way. He’d see through that in a moment. Besides, there’s freedom in honesty. I’m beginning to prefer it.

“All right,” Lopt says, “What would you have me do?”

“I’m going to give you the Casket of Ancient Winters.”

Lopt narrows his eyes at me, his gaze pure disgust. “And how am I to wield it? Only the Jötunn can touch it, let alone use it. Or do you mean to get rid of me with it? Better that I am dead than a temptation for you now you have your lover. You’ll regret it when you want a proper fucking.”

I resist the urge to tell him Kit fucked me more than well enough, or that we are Jötunn. Honesty has its limits.

“I have mastered the ability to lift the Casket. I will give you that power temporarily, and you will unleash it upon the room.”

“And where will you be?”

“I’ll be looking for the man who hurt Kit.”

We’re interrupted by a bang as the library door swings open. “Loki?” Thor shouts from the doorway. “Ah! There you are.”

Lopt turns and Thor finds us both staring at him. He strides towards us, nose wrinkled in distaste, and looks us both up and down.

“Not you again,” he says, looking at me.

“I’m the original.”

Thor turns instead to Lopt. “Not you again.”

Lopt rolls his eyes, and I step between them. “Leave him be. We could do with the extra sword.”

“Please, no more of that filthy talk,” Thor says, cringing. “We’re to leave in less than an hour, and I really don’t want to have that in my mind.”

“He’s coming to fight with us.”

“You’ve asked me to,” Lopt corrects me. “I’ve not agreed.”

“But you will.”

“We shall see.”

Thor looks from one of us to the other and shakes his head. “One of you softened enough to fall in love, and the other is so lacking in sentiment he’d abandon even himself in battle. You’re a contrary man, brother.”

“And you are an oaf,” Lopt says. “Now, can I please be sent back to whatever realm I inhabit when I’m gone?”

Now he’s here, it’s my decision whether he comes or goes, and he will stay. “When I’m ready,” I tell him. “For now you’ll have to come with me.”

“And if I don’t?”

I think of the Chitauri Sceptre. I could make him my puppet for real. But I say, “I will mourn you.”

“Loki?” It’s Kit, entering with a pile of books under one arm and a cup of tea in the other. I give him a weak wave and glance at Lopt who is looking at the floor.

Kit approaches cautiously, nodding a greeting to Thor who is tossing his hammer sulkily.

“Two Loki’s again,” Kit says, looking at Lopt. I wonder if he can tell which of us is which.

Lopt’s smile is every bit as handsome and charming as mine is, whatever he might think of Kit. “I’m Lopt. That is Loki.”

“Right. Sorry. This is still strange to me.”

“Quite all right,” Lopt says. “It was strange for me too, for the first few decades. What I saw of them, at any rate.”

Thor coughs politely, apparently on his best behaviour now for Kit and says, “You know about this, young Christopher? About Loki and his...” He trails off, gesturing towards Lopt.

“Yes. Loki introduced us at the fertility festival.”

Thor knows we argued that night, but he asks, “You don’t mind?”

“Would you mind if you had an extra hammer to play with?”

Kit winks at me and I make little effort to stifle my smile at his playful comment, knowing how much it will wind Thor up.

Thor groans, rubbing his eyes. “The mental images, Odin’s eyeball, the mental images.” He looks at me and says, “I asked for that, didn’t I?”

I shrug. Then I look at Lopt and say proudly, “That’s my boyfriend.” 

Lopt is looking at Kit, who seems to be studiously avoiding returning his gaze now, placing his books and cup on the table and arranging them to his liking. Neither of them speaks.

Thor hums to himself, and when no one else breaks the silence, he says, “Not that this isn’t perfectly awkward, but we should be on our way, Lokis. Say goodbye to Christopher, and we’ll go down to the Bifrost.”

Now Kit finds his voice again, head whipping up to look first at Thor, then at me. “What do you mean say goodbye to me? If you’re going now, I’m coming with you.”

“You’re not coming,” I say, “You don’t need to be there for this. We will see you afterward and tell you all about it.”

“No. I’ve watched you fight twice now. It was fucking terrifying but it was better than not being there with you. I’m not waiting out the third time here in Asgard.

“I’m sorry, Kit.” In truth, I am. I wish he didn’t suffer the fragility all mortals do. I wish he could come and stand by my side. But he cannot.

“Thor?” Kit asks, turning his attention to someone with less to lose when it comes to risking his safety. “Please.”

Thor looks to me, and I shake my head. “Loki is right,” he says. “You might be hurt. _He_ might be hurt if you distract him.”

Then Lopt says, “He wants to protect you. He loves you. Be happy you have him and let us do what must be done.”

Kit flushes but doesn’t argue. Part of me thinks he still might be a little afraid of Lopt, but he looks to me for no comfort and walks beside Thor as we all head for the Bifrost, leaving Lopt and I to walk together alone.

“You’re coming then?” I ask Lopt as we cross the bridge towards the Bifrost. He has been suspiciously quiet throughout the journey from the palace.

“What other choice do I have?”

I can see the wheels turning in his mind. I am taking him to Midgard and handing him a powerful weapon. Even without his powers, he must be thinking up some way to use it to his advantage. Of course, I am in complete control of him. I can will him away in a moment, and I will if I have to. He knows this, so perhaps he is considering turning the casket on me, expecting me to freeze and hoping that he will remain indefinitely, though it’s unlikely that my magic could sustain itself under deep freeze even if my body survives.

Lopt might intend to hide the casket while I’m distracted and then blackmail us for its return afterward. Or it could be that I am secondary to all this, and it’s Thor he plans to attack with it. I am not the only person Lopt considers an enemy.

At least he won’t be able to turn the casket upon Kit.

As we approach Heimdall, he looks curiously at Lopt and I. “No, you do not see double,” I say. “There are two of us, and we’re both solid.”

He raises an eyebrow and looks at Thor who says, “It’s exactly what you think it is. I’ve had the details and if you think what you saw was bad, be grateful you haven’t heard what I have.”

Kit drops back and takes my hand, squeezing it. I squeeze back, and for a moment we look into each other’s eyes. He’s got that determined look on his face, the look he had as he walked away upon our first greeting. I think he might be about to do something he doesn’t want to do.

“Don’t,” I murmur. “You stay here, and you wait. Heimdall will relay what is happening. He doesn’t talk much, but he’ll answer questions if you ask them. He will assure you I’m perfectly all right.”

Kit throws his free arm around my neck, pulls me close to him, pressing our bodies together as if he can imprint my form against his forever. I kiss him, glancing to Lopt who stares at us, face unreadable.

“Come now,” I say, stepping back from Kit and patting his shoulder. “We must be on our way.”

Kit steps back dutifully, going to stand beside Heimdall who plunges Hofund into place to open the Bifrost. I let Lopt go, planning to reveal him again when we arrive at the arena. Then Thor and I enter the Bifrost ready to meet our fate.


	37. Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The Bifrost sets us down in Greenwich Park. It’s been rebuilt since Malekith tried to unleash the power of the Aether on the Nine Realms and besides a statue commemorating Thor’s efforts to save Midgard, you wouldn’t know that anything had happened.

The Avengers are there, clustered around the monument to Thor’s heroism.

Bruce Banner is stood at the front, slovenly in his Midgardian attire, looking up at the life-size bronze. “How is it that we saved the world multiple times and each of us gets singled out for criticism and then our team is disbanded, yet this asshole turns up alone in London once and gets his own statue?”

“Greeting’s to you too, Banner,” Thor says, shouldering his way through to the front. “And to the rest of you. I’m glad so many of you were able to make it.”

I look around and realise there are new faces amongst those I recognise, and that some older ones I had expected are missing. Tony Stark is the most glaring omission. That’s interesting. I turn my mind back to the dreary council sessions Thor made me sit through, and I do recall he once mentioned a spat between Stark and Captain America but it was of no interest to me at the time. Now it gives me pause. Stark’s Iron Man would be a useful asset.

Banner is here, obviously, and Strange. I can see Scrapper 142, the Valkyrie, next to Banner. Natasha Romanov would no doubt be looking at her daggers if she had not turned her furious gaze upon me.

I hear an arrow being nocked and turn to Clint Barton who is ready to shoot me at only three paces distance.

“What the hell is he doing here?”

I nod to him. “A pleasure as always, Clint.”

There’s a general murmur of solidarity with Clint from the small crowd. Even the ones who don’t know me personally must know me by reputation.

“Brother?” I prompt.

Thor makes the introductions. In addition to those I’ve noted, there’s Steve Rogers; Steve’s boyfriend, Bucky; a young woman called Wanda Maximoff; a robotic man who calls himself Vision; an African King called T’Challa; a rather handsome American called Sam Wilson, who, after some discussion, I ascertain is no relation to Kit; and some scruffy interloper called Scott Lang, who looks very much like a lost American tourist hoping to join our group. Some of them greet each other as he does so and I realise that many are as unknown to each other as they are to me.

Thor then recounts the circumstances that brought us here. They all know who Kit is—he is a global superstar right now thanks to his visit to my planet—and they’re not surprised he was compromised. In their worlds, far odder things have happened. The only thing they question is my involvement.

“Loki set this up?” Steve asks, “And we are supposed to trust him while he hand delivers us to Hydra?”

Thor plasters a smile on his face. “If I could refer to my learned colleagues, Banner and Strange, and perhaps you too Valkyrie—you’re not a doctor, but you’re a very savvy woman. You three know Loki. Do you trust him?”

They trade looks and then offer their answers together.

“Hell, no.”

“Not a chance.”

“No way.”

Bastards. Just when I am about to release a shower of fury upon them all, Strange says, “However. Loki did relinquish the Time Stone to me, and he recently saved my life, though I should add it was him that put me in danger.”

“By viciously taking my lover out to dinner and then the theatre,” I mutter.

Next Valkyrie says, “He did fight alongside us in Asgard, and afterward when Thanos attacked us. He helped save our people and gave us the means to rebuild.”

“As any great leader would,” I say modestly.

Banner nods a slow agreement. “That’s all true. I fought beside him too. He was late, and he tried to betray us but when he showed up, he came prepared. He’s actually pretty useful in a fight.”

It’s grudging praise, but praise nonetheless, and I’m sure they trust me or they wouldn’t be here now. “Thank you,” I say to Banner.

His eyes widen and he steps back, banging into the statue, clearly terrified at being singled out. “I’m just saying it’s better than fighting against you.”

I smile. Better man or not, there’s something quite pleasing in knowing I’ve still got the power to worry the Hulk.

Turning my eyes on the others, however, I see they’re still looking at me with disdain.

“I’m not walking into a trap,” says Clint.

“Me neither,” says Natasha.

“Excellent,” Thor says, “We’ll need volunteers to remain outside and stop any Hydra members that escape.”

The two friends exchange a glance but they agree to do so.

Steve nods at them both like he’s in charge of the team and approves of their decision. Turning his attention to Banner, he says, “You don’t think this is a trap, do you?”

“I won’t second guess Loki. But I know he’s got some good in him and if Thor trusts him this time...” he trails off and shrugs. “This would be a good opportunity to take out Hydra. One thing I realised when I was off planet is that sometimes the Hulk is worth bringing out. If I’m careful, and that’s hard, but I’m trying, I can do a lot of good with him. This might be one of those times.”

Steve then looks at Bucky who says, “Everyone deserves a second chance.” Steve agrees. He’s in.

Wanda share’s Bucky’s sentiment, as does Vison. T’Challa and Sam offer to remain outside with Natasha and Clint. Scott Lang leaves.

Thor details the plan—a simple plot to freeze the immediate vicinity with the Casket and then conduct mass arrests. He doesn’t mention Lopt, a good thing, perhaps. All are aware of my ability to create clones. It's better they think of Lopt as me and not my former self.

The arena will begin to fill at 10pm. Hydra have had to cancel a concert by someone called Mariah Carey so they could stage this, and Heimdall said that fact had caused a good deal of tension amongst the staff. She must be a very fearsome warrior, and I file her in my mind alongside Beyonce and Tom Daley as mortals I must investigate.

For now, she is not here, so that is one less threat I have to deal with. I can concentrate on finding John and bringing him to justice. If he resists me, his suffering will be even greater.

I hope he resists.


	38. Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Two hours later we are sat in the gods watching Hydra form their ranks with almost military precision. I suspect they’re laxer than this usually, but I did demand to see my army and they are here, dressed for the occasion in black leather uniforms. The lights have been turned off where we are—useful for our purpose now, but most likely to appeal to my vanity. The thousands of empty seats do disappoint me, in a way. I’d like to think I could command better than this.

As it is, I’ve perhaps a thousand men here, which given the nature of their organisation, might be a very good turnout.

The high ranking officers sit on the stage and the troops stand on the floor of the arena, tightly packed. Behind them are stage crew, neatly placed at tables with their laptops and equipment, to command the lights, a live video feed, and music, all of which they are testing. The gathering may be small, but they are at least providing me with the spectacle I deserve.

“Are we sure Mariah Carey has really been cancelled?” Wanda asks, looking at the light show, a dazzling gold and green dance of colour across the stage.

“The Lady Carey will not appear tonight,” Thor confirms.

“Just the lady Loki,” Bucky quips.

I transform into my female form and blow him a kiss, which he has the good grace to catch.

I decide I don’t mind him. Turning back to my male body I blow him another.

“Hey!” Steve says. He’s jealous. Not so righteous after all.

Soon they are in position, and right on time I bring Lopt to life on the stage of the O2 Arena in London, ready to make his debut.

This time when I weave him, I give him my memories. This includes the past, my history with the Avenger’s, the truth of our parentage, and the aftermath. How we have changed. He knew our mother and father are dead, I told him that, but now he knows everything and what I intend for him to do tonight. The only thing I kept from him is the memories of my intimacy with Kit. He needn’t have that rubbed in his face.

It’s too much, I know, but he needed this and we had no time to talk it through. Now I will see what I am really capable of, good or bad.

For a moment Lopt is overwhelmed. I watch him lift his hands, look at them as if he expects to see the rich blue of Jötunn skin. I wonder if he is disgusted with himself, his body, just as I was, or if he’s comforted by the acceptance I’ve given him now.

Around him the music blares, the lights play, and he looks out at the crowd of men and women now at his command.

“It appears I have an army,” he says.

This elicits an almighty cheer from the crowd, who have no doubt been instructed to please their new master. He bows to them, then turns his attention to their leaders, the commanders who share the stage with him right now.

“And you, the former leaders of my army. Do you claim loyalty to me?”

 _The former leaders._ The words give them cause for concern, just as they ought, but not a man, or creature, for that matter, amongst them stands against us.

“I will give you what you want,” Lopt says, holding out his hands. I send the casket to him, making it appear as if he had conjured it rather than me.

Lopt raises it high into the air, walking around with it, the camera following him, projecting him across the many screens in the arena. “This is the Casket of Ancient Winters. It is a device capable of bringing eternal winter to Midgard, creating chaos and destruction in its path. It’s the least powerful of the many weapons we hold on Asgard and the first of many I offer you, if you pledge your allegiance to me, your new supreme leader.”

More cheering from the crowd. Lopt laps it up, basking in their adoration, a big smile upon his face. It’s what we’ve always wanted, and for a moment I wish it was me on the stage rather than him. I want the cheers. I want to lead Hydra.

And if I want that, Lopt must want it too.

“No,” I whisper, as he goes off plan. 

“The Tesseract, the Eternal Flame, the Tuning Fork, The Warlock’s Eye, The Tablet of Life and Time, and the Infinity Gauntlet. I am keeper to all these things, and their powers are mine. They will be yours, should you accept me as your leader tonight. This pathetic little planet will kneel, and you, my chosen ones, will stand behind me for eternity. I can give you immortality.”

“You are a real showboat,” Bucky shouts above the cheer of the crowd below us.

I ignore him, but I can’t ignore Thor who puts his hand on my shoulder. “What’s going on, Loki? Why is he sharing every secret Asgard has?”

“I don’t know,” I reply, though I have an idea and I do not like it.

Lopt steps to the centre of the stage, placing the casket upon a pedestal. “Show me your allegiance. Say my name.”

The crowd begins to chant. “Loki. Loki. Loki.” 

Then comes the crash. The Bifrost tears through the ceiling and onto the stage in an explosion of rainbow colour greater than any light show.

The heroes around me all leap to their feet. “What’s that?” Strange demands.

“An Einstein-Rosen Bridge,” answer Banner and Vision together.

“It’s the Bifrost,” Thor corrects them.

A moment later it is gone. Kit is stood in the centre of the stage, looking at the crowd, terrified.

“No,” I bark, “No! No! No!” I turn my face up to the heavens and shout, “Send him back! Heimdall! I know you can hear me you bastard son of a pox-ridden Vanir whore! Send him back!”

“Okay, Loki’s crazy again,” Banner says, tugging at his collar as if it is too tight around his neck. “Is it time to fight yet because I don’t think I can hold the big guy in for long with Loki like this.”

The other’s take hold of him, force him into a seat, attempting to calm him down. I try to run for the stage but Thor drops Mjolnir on my foot.

“Get it off me! Kit’s down there.”

“When the time comes he’ll take cover, he’s a sensible lad,” Thor says. “Heimdall must have sent him for a reason. Let’s see what happens.”

Trapped beneath Mjolnir, I have no choice. All I can do is send Kit back myself but it will take everything I have. I won’t be able to sustain Lopt, though at this stage it might not be a bad thing, and I will have little left for any more complex spells afterward. Then I’m in unknown territory.

The appearance of the Bifrost on the stage and the accompanying shower of debris from the roof has left less chaos than you might expect. These soldiers are better trained than you’d imagine, and only a few are attempting to muscle their way through the crowd to the exit. I suspect Lopt’s promise of immortality is too tempting for them.

Lopt is still stood before his casket, inconvenienced by the arrival, but not frightened. Many of the Hydra leaders, however, have left their chairs, and a few have been hurt or killed by the chunks of the roof that rained down with the Bifrost. They all remain on the stage, some tending to the wounded, others arguing about what must be done. There is no obvious leader, which makes their interest in having me as a figurehead even more fascinating.

If none of them want to command it must be a precarious position. They’re all vying to be the power behind the throne.

John is amongst them. He’s left his chair but he’s stopped still, watching Kit even as other’s cluster around him and blame him for the carnage.

Kit looks for me and sees Lopt. “Loki!” he shouts, running to him.

Lopt looks shocked, but he opens his arm to embrace Kit. “What are you doing here?”

“Heimdall said you needed me. Thank God you’re all right.”

Lopt frowns. “I need you? Of course, I always need you, my love.” He turns and presents Kit to the crowd as if he’s showing off another relic. “I am your king,” he says to them. “And this is your prince.”

It seems Kit is known to them and they cheer him too.

Kit clings to Lopt. I use my magic to drown out the noise of the crowd and amplify only what I am interested in hearing.

“What’s happening?” Kit asks Lopt, hand reaching up to snatch Lopt’s microphone and toss it to the ground.

“Nothing, you need to worry about,” Lopt says.

Kit turns his face up and kisses him.

The moment lasts forever, an eternity of pain as I see Kit’s lips meet Lopt’s, watch Kit pour every ounce of his love onto my clone. I should be down there, the crowd cheering me, the boy in my arms, pressed tight against my body. I’d have him right there so they could all see he was mine. If any of them even looked at him, spoke to him, I’d destroy them.

The beast within me rears up. Then the kiss ends and I feel myself calm, though the look Lopt gives Kit, the joy on his face, makes me sick.

“You do love me, don’t you?” he says.

Kit smiles at him. “Every bit as much as I hate Hydra. Shall we do this?”

He reaches for the casket and Lopt stops him just in time. “Jötunn only, I’m afraid.”

“Then make me a Jötunn like you.”

Lopt can’t, and I mustn’t spare the energy. He grins and says, “Kiss me again.”

Kit does, this time guiding Lopt’s hands to his hips, then his arse. I can only screech a jumble of curses at them while Thor pats me on the back and reminds me once again that Midgardian chocolate can be a good friend in times like this. He doesn’t have any, but he will acquire some for me when this is all over.

After another lifetime of pain, Kit let’s go of Lopt, though Lopt clings tight to him still. “Loki’s fine, by the way,” he says.

Kit grins at him. “I know. You wouldn’t be here if he weren’t. Now, are you going to do this for him or for me?”

Lopt laughs, seeming delighted by Kit for the first time. He waves to my position, then he opens the casket.

I’ve never seen it open. I used it on Heimdallr once, directing it’s power through the front panel, concentrating it to quickly freeze him alone. Now, however, it’s wild. Freezing air soars out in every direction, creating a snowstorm that quickly spreads across the arena hall.

“Run!” Lopt shouts to Kit, who dashes off towards the backstage area. In moments he’s lost to my sight.

Behind me, Banner becomes the Hulk. I hear him turning, the roar from his throat shaking the stand. The other’s are going into action. Thor lifts Mjolnir from my foot and takes off into the air, diving for the furthest edge of the crowd to slow their escape, Strange coming up behind him. Vision snatches up Wanda and they fly to another pair of doors, while Steve and Bucky scramble down the steps. The Hulk, fully formed now, leaps to the stage. He’s the closest to the casket, a good thing, I think as he might be best equipped to withstand its icy blast. He tears down the stage, tossing chunks of metal and equipment across the far exits. No one will be able to leave without passing the Avengers.

Lopt is fighting with the two daggers I’ve given him, fending off all comers. I see him take a blow and I bolster him, setting up a connection between us. I weaken each time he takes a hit, but he might as well have my extra strength and stamina if he is the one fighting. Several high ranking members of Hydra attempt to touch the casket, perhaps to grab it or to shut it but every one of them dies in the process.

Men are beginning to freeze in the immediate vicinity. I see ice forming on them, their muscles failing under the sudden extreme cold. I predict they will have only minutes before this kills the closest and immobilises those furthest away.

I never intended to be a part of the fray, and as far as the Avengers are concerned, I am on the stage fighting, in spirit if not body. I always meant to slip away and find John, but not now I know Kit is here. He comes first and I will get him out of the arena even if we have to go through the hole in the roof. That is currently streaming, taking the deadly ice out of the arena and bringing it to the streets of London. We haven’t got long.

I dash down the stairs, shove my way through the crowd, scrambling over them when I have to, shoving them away when I can. I pick up and throw the odd few, which is a quick way to clear a path. Soon I’m on the stage running, slicing my way through a canvas covered prop wall when I cannot get through. I must find Kit, get him out of there, then, when the army is full immobilised, go back and close the casket.

“Kit!” I shout, running through the maze backstage. It’s not unlike the warren of tunnels Hydra occupy directly below. “Kit! Where are you?”

I hear another voice: John Edbury. “Kit! Kit!” he shouts, “We have to get out of here!” Rounding a corner I see John, diving through a pair of large black double doors with stars mounted on them. “Kit!

I follow him, telling myself he may have found Kit, but when I get in there I find nothing but a whore’s paradise full of mirrors and pink velvet furniture. A large glass-fronted refrigerator provides the only light in the room, it’s brightness illuminating the platters of fresh cut fruit and bottles of various liquids inside.

John is stood in the centre of the room, half lit by the white light from the refrigerator, the rest of him in shadow.

“Where’s Kit?” he demands. “What have you done?”

“I took the man you love and now I’ve had the organisation you’ve devoted your life to,” I say, unable to keep the smugness on my voice. “I’d have your life too if I hadn’t promised Kit I wouldn’t kill you.”

The news that I won’t kill him makes him cocky, but I never said I wouldn’t hurt him. As he reaches for his weapon, a gun, I toss one of my daggers, letting it slice the flesh from the back of his hand as it passes him by. The gun goes off in his hand and he shoots himself in the foot. I fling the next dagger at his opposite side, slamming it into his shoulder and knocking him off his feet.

“You can’t wield them,” I say as he reaches to pull the one in his shoulder free from his body. “Well you can, but you’ll only be able to injure yourself with them. They’re enchanted to make you clumsy.”

I take his gun and throw it against the wall where it shatters beneath my force. I fetch my fallen blade, then go for the one in his shoulder, holding him down with the heel of my boot before I pull it out. His screaming makes me sick.

I want to say I’m enjoying this, but I’m not. I’m going through the motions, taking my revenge because I promised myself I would, not because I want to.

Kit would despise me for this.

“Come,” I reach down and haul John from the floor, finding it a difficult task. Lopt must be severely wounded, but I will sustain him as long as I can. John looks up at me pathetically, and I say, “We need to get out of here.”

I sling his good arm around my shoulder and help him limp from the room. “Kit!” he shouts, “Kit? Where are you?”

I join him. We shout for Kit, following the signs for the emergency exits as I help him hobble away, frost growing on the walls as we move, icy air chasing us up the corridor.

We quickly arrive at an exit, and I thank my every forefather that the door is already open for us. Kit headed in this direction and he may have escaped through it too.

Outside is freezing. Harsh winds and snowfall on the ground as far as I can see. Clint, Natasha and T’Challa hold back the soldiers that have escaped the storm inside and my army’s unconscious, perhaps dead, bodies litter the streets. Lang has returned, but now he’s a hundred foot high and he’s brought Tony Stark and his team of combat robots with him. Better late than never, I suppose. I can hear helicopters and I know the people of Midgard must be watching this live on their television screens, computer tablets and mobile phones, gripped as the Avengers fight a terrorist organisation while winter’s rage pours from one of their major cities landmarks.

Kit is still nowhere to be seen. “Kit!” I shout into the chaos but I can’t see or hear him. I get John to a bench and then close my eyes, attempting astral projection under the most extreme circumstances I’ve ever faced. Everything around me is a distraction, and I’m so weak.

But I do it because I have to. I find Kit immediately. He’s still in the building, tightly wrapped in fur throws as he slowly tries to make his way through the freezing rooms. Where once was frost there’s now thickening ice on the walls, and if I don’t get him out soon, I will be too late.

Lopt is with him, but as I suspected he has been heavily injured in the fighting, his body riddled with bullet wounds. He must be in great pain, but he can’t die. Not unless I choose for him too. I let him go, knowing I can bring him back strong again, rebuild him like brand new, though I don't have the strength to do so today.

However, he has to go. I won’t be able to teleport Kit out if I’m sustaining Lopt.

Lopt vanishes. Kit cries out, stumbling to the ground now Lopt was no longer there to prop him up. “Loki!” he tries to shout The cold air sends him into fits of coughs. He pulls the furs around him, curls himself into a ball and waits for me, only me.

In an instant I’m back in my body, silently performing the spells that will bring Kit to me. They fail. I haven’t the power. I cannot move him.

All I have is my body. I’m weakened, but my physical and magical strength will return the now link between Lopt and me is severed. And I’m a Jötunn. The cold will not bother me.

I run back towards the dome, boots crunching in the thick, fresh snow. That’s when I see them coming, the doors flinging open as Steve and Bucky sprint from one side of the building, Vision and Wanda rushing through the other, a stream of Hydra soldier’s behind them. As soon they are clear of the building they begin to fight again, trying to contain the army, which digs deep for the last of its strength. The Hulk, Thor and Strange shoot up through the hole in the roof and land in front of me.

“Loki!” Thor shouts, running to me. “You have to close the casket!”

“I have to get to Kit,” I shout, dodging past him and making for the exit. “He’s still inside.”

“I can see for miles up there!” shouts Thor! “This blizzard rages over half of London and has frozen the Thames. Innocents will die if you don’t close that casket!”

Let them die, I think, but Kit will never forgive me. But there is another way, a way that might allow me to get to Kit first and close the casket quickly.

Moments later, I’m through the door, navigating the dark corridors of the arena. The cold has shattered the lights and now it’s more like a black, icy cavern than an arena of entertainment and pleasure. With the scant reserves of my energy I conjure a lamp, not for my own use but for Kit so he will see me approach and have hope. Hope can make a man hold on to life, if only for a single moment longer. That may be all I need.

“Kit!” I shout when I see him, upping my sprint faster than any Midgardian athlete’s. I drop to my knees when I reach his side, skidding along the ice for the last part of the journey, and embrace him.

“Loki?” Kit says. He’s weak, skin pale blue, body freezing. I take hold of his hands and give him everything I have: the last of my physical strength, my magic, and my very essence. With my last drop of energy I make him a Jötunn. Then I let everything go.

“Loki? Loki what have you done?” he asks, sitting up and shaking me as I crumple beside him. He notices his hands now, the blue skin of the Frost Giants, and gasps.”

“The casket,” I breathe. “You need to close the casket.”

“No! No, you didn’t do this,” he shouts, hitting me with quite some force now he has my strength. I curl beneath the blow and he says, “Oh shit! Oh shit, I’m sorry Loki, I’m so sorry.”

He grabs the furs, wraps them around me. I’m numb from the cold, lightheaded. Like a child I let him move me only because I haven’t the strength to stop him.

“It’s all right. I’ve only just felt the cold, I’ve got time. Go to the casket. I’ll be here when you get back.” He hesitates, and I urge him, “Go. London is freezing. Your people will die.”

That spurs him on. “I’m coming back for you,” he shouts as he runs into the wind raging down the corridor, ready to do his duty. He took the lamp and I’m left in the dark.

I always hoped it would end like this, dying for love in some heroic fashion. I’ve faked my death enough times to know I’ll be mourned, maybe this time as a good man rather than just a brother to Thor.

Thor... My dear brother. I close my eyes and picture him a year from now, stood beneath my statute, which is next to his in Greenwich Park. Mine is taller, pure gold, far more expensive and better wrought than his. Thor has insisted on paying for it, telling the Midgardian’s that it’s what I would have wanted.

I hope he will be happy when I’m gone. He has Asgard and his friends, and in time he will have a wife and children. The Loki problem will be well and truly dealt with. Life will continue for him as best it can without me or our mother and father. I feel an odd sort of pang and realise its empathy. He will be alone, and I know too well what that is like. I wish I had the strength to live and ease his burden the way he so often tried to ease mine.

I hope too he accepts Kit as his family. I made my intentions clear. Kit is my husband in spirit, even if we were unable to make it official. Yes, Kit must comfort him, and in return Thor must provide him a dowry and find him a husband.

Kit deserves to be loved. I picture him now, see him in the grand hall of the arena, pushing forward against the chill, buffeting winds. He’s struggling, but he’s coping well enough.

The casket is before him, spewing out its eternal winter still, and I casually float over to it and look into the deep purple of its depths.

I try to turn my mind instead towards Kit’s future. Lovers, then a husband and family of his own. But I can see nothing but what is before me: the dark of the casket and his struggle.

Then it clicks. Somehow I’ve achieved astral projection without trying. I have heard Midgardian’s speak of this. The soul leaving the body before death.

Am I dying? I have not been without my strength long but I’m weak, so weak. I float across to Kit and whisper words of encouragement to him as he pushes against the wind, and snow, climbing to the top of a mountain of ice that now surrounds the casket.

He slips, but I tell him what to grab for and he does it, stopping his fall. Then I guide him up a path of my own making, telling him where to go, which hand holds to grab. I take him around, let him approach the casket from behind and watch him struggle to push the lid shut, slipping again and again but getting up each time because the longer it takes, the more likely it is someone will die.

“This is the last part,” I tell him. “I believe in you. You are strong. You showed me so many times. You can do it.”

This time he looks at me. “Loki,” he says, reaching out to touch my face but his hand goes through my image. His eyes fill with tears. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare die on me.”

With a roar he shoves the lid for the last time, slamming it down on top of the casket and skidding down the slope towards lantern. I sit beside the casket in the circle of light left by the great hole in the roof and watch the room fade to black.


	39. Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Thirty-Nine

I didn’t die. I fell unconscious. I’m exhausted still when I come to and have to work up the strength to open my eyes and tell Kit to stop shaking me.

“Loki, wake up! Thor! Over here!”

I hear the fear in Kit’s voice, but I’m not able to allay it yet. I hear a heavy crunch of boots and surmise my brother has responded to the call. He quickly confirms this, nudging me with his foot.

“What happened, Kit?” Thor asks. “You look like a Jötunn.”

“Loki transferred all his powers to me. I had to close the casket.”

“You stopped this?” Thor sounds impressed. He nudges me again. “Loki's all right. I've seen him play dead after far worse than this. Right, Loki? Right?”

I could probably manage a groan now, but I stay silent just to punish him. “Loki?” Thor says, booting me a little harder. “Bor's balls! Strange!”

Strange must be floating because I don’t hear him approach and only become aware of his presence when he settles down beside me and takes my wrist in his hand, feeling for the pulse of my blood.

“He's alive. You should get him back to Asgard. Your doctors will have a better idea how to treat him than me. I’d know what to do with a human, but he’s something else.”

“Can't you use your stone and bring him back?” Kit demands. “That’s what it does, isn’t it? It turns back time to save your life. Use it on Loki.”

“And do what? Tell him not to save the life of the man he loves? As if he’d listen to me.”

“I might,” I say opening my eyes, and the three of them look at me, Kit and Thor smiling with relief, Strange raising a disdainful eyebrow. I take Kit’s hand and say, “I'd listen, but I wouldn't countenance it. I'd choose you every time.”

“Loki,” he whispers, kissing my knuckles, a few stray tears wetting my hand as he does so. Then his face hardens, and he says, “You scared the shit out of me. Don’t you ever do anything like that again.”

“And don’t do anything worse again either,” Thor chimes in, helping me to my feet and leaning me on Kit’s shoulder. He steps back and shouts “Heimdall! Take these two home.”

“Hey!” I hear Lang shout as the Bifrost sucks us up from the Earth. “Is it true about you and the horse?”

*****

I pass out again in the Bifrost and wake to a new day. Kit is lying beside me in our bed, still blue, wearing the same clothes he sported the night before. What our people must have thought when I appeared unconscious with no one but a Frost Giant, I cannot begin to guess, but they brought me to the palace and no one has hurt Kit.

I reach out to him, physically and spiritually, and I slowly take back what is mine, careful that he doesn’t revert to the state I found him in. I take my magic and my species, returning him to his perfect Midgardian body.

I reach across to stroke his hair and he rouses, opening his eyes and smiling at me for a moment before he remembers what has happened and sits up. “You’re awake? How do you feel?”

“Alive.”

He grins. “Good. The doctor said you need a few days bed rest.”

“That sounds like it might be fun,” I say, pulling him to me, though my body aches.

Kit doesn’t resist me, but he doesn’t respond either. “The rest is the important part.”

“The important part is who I'm resting with.”

“Then let’s rest.”

We spend half an hour in blissful silence, curled up on the bed together until a knock on the door interrupts us. “Come in,” Kit calls, before I can send whoever it is away with a stream of abuse.

Thor opens the door gingerly, sticking his head around the wood as if he’s checking we’re both decent.

“Good morning,” he says. Seeming satisfied that he’s interrupted nothing that might give him nightmares, he enters the room, taking a chair and placing it beside my bed. “It’s good to see you awake, Loki. And you, Kit. You’re looking less blue.”

Kit sits up and helps me do the same, stuffing soft pillows behind my back and kissing my forehead as he lays me back on them. “Is it over?” he asks Thor, settling down beside me.

“Hundreds of operatives have been arrested, including Jonathan Edbury. He was keen to know if you were safe, Kit. The snow is melting and the base will be fully searched when they are able to access it.”

“Shit,” Kit says, “I left the casket in there.” 

“Strange was able to cloak it, and the warriors three are standing guard over it for the time being. I have agreed we will retrieve it in a few days when Loki’s strength returns.”

“That’s no good,” I say, “they need to be with Kit’s parents. I will go now.” I fling back the sheets so I can leave the bed. Finding myself completely naked and unable to conjure clothing, I quickly cover myself again.

Thor groans. “At least that was only in the corner of my eye. The warriors will be fine. They’ve had a few easy days with Kit’s parents, eating and drinking like Midgardian kings. Vollstag didn’t want to leave. They have brought back new recipes for delicacies you might know, Kit. Yorkshire pudding? Jam Roly Poly? Gin and Tonic?”

“Sounds like they were there for Sunday lunch,” Kit says. “Are my parents all right?”

“You can ask them yourself. They’re staying in your old room.”

Kit gasps. He kisses me on the cheek and then runs for the door. “I won’t be long!” he shouts.

“He will,” Thor says. “This afternoon he must return to Midgard and answer some questions about what he has been up to over the last six weeks.”

“I should be with him,” I say, trying to get up again, nudity be damned, but Thor pushes me back down and holds me in place with Mjolnir for a moment, a warning should I try to move again.

“You should be here, resting. I will go, and if they insist he stays I’ll bring him back by force, don’t you worry about that.”

“You’d do that for me?”

Thor’s face softens. “Your heart matters too, brother. And I don’t think I’ll need to cause a fuss. They love me down there, though I will say, Kit’s parents spoke very highly of you too. If they are any indication of the general population then your reputation may well be restored—you and Kit are seen by many people as heroes in the Midgardian war on terror. The whole world saw you run back in to save him and how he carried you out, and now it is well known that you were instrumental in setting up the operation.”

“Well known? How?”

“You saw the helicopters. The attack was broadcast all over the world. I gave a few interviews too when the press arrived on the ground.” He yawns, closing his eyes as he leans back in his chair. “I was up all night explaining myself to the reporters and then that damned witch who is in charge of Britain. She’s almost as bad as that bloated flatulence America calls a president. What’s wrong with hereditary rule, eh?”

I do not care a bit what Thor thinks of Midgard’s leaders. “What exactly did you say to them?”

Thor opens one eye and looks at me, a wicked grin on his face now. “I may have embellished things a little. I described your overwhelming desire to repay the people of Midgard for your previous misdemeanours, for example. I may even have stated the fight between Strange and yourself was staged to bring about this event once you heard how Kit was being blackmailed. And in my version of the story Kit might have come to us with the knowledge because he was unable to trust his government. It certainly helps matters that several key members of the witch’s cabinet and high ranking military, intelligence and police officials have been discovered to be members of Hydra thanks to this.”

“You’re turning into quite the liar brother,” I say proudly.

“High time I joined the family business. Anyhow, that is where we are. I have told the British witch that we do not trust Midgardians after this, but that Kit has become a great asset to us and that we’d like him to conduct all relations between us from now. She said she would consider it, but I don’t think she’ll refuse me. She’s representing her entire planet in this matter. She needs to do the easiest thing to keep us happy.”

I doubt my reputation is as clean now as Thor might like to think, but this is something. It’s the first step toward a fresh start. “Can I tell Kit?”

Thor laughs at the suggestion. “I do all the work and you get the glory? Oh, why not.”

“Hey!” I say, “I did my bit.”

“You did,” Thor says, the softness settling over him once again. “You’ve made me proud to call you brother.”

I suck in my bottom lip and bite it gently. I won’t cry. I don’t need Thor’s approval or his praise. I don’t need his love or the weight of his arm leaning on my shoulder, the comforting embrace of true family. I certainly don’t need my hair ruffling and I dodge him as he reaches for my head.

Damn him. He ruins everything. 

He stays with me until Kit returns, standing as my love walks back through the door.

“We leave for Midgard in an hour,” Thor says, “I’d like to think we’ll return in two. You should speak to Loki and then ready yourself.” He leaves, and Kit takes his place next to me.

“How are your parents?” I ask.

“Very relieved to see me alive and kind of in awe of this place. They can’t wait to meet you.”

“I can’t wait to meet them either. In fact, I’d very much like to speak to them sooner rather than later. I have been thinking we ought to make this official.”

Kit gasps, mouth stretching into a painfully broad smile. “We barely know each other,” he says, with a hint of irony.

“You offered up your life for me, and I offered mine for you.”

He laughs, diving from his seat onto the bed, arms wrapping around my neck in the process. “On Midgard, this would be considered crazy.”

It doesn’t escape my attention he called his home Midgard. “We aren’t on Earth,” I say, doing him the same courtesy.

He grins. “No, we aren't.”

It’s in my nature to tease and trick, to have a little fun. I’ve suppressed my playful streak for far too long, but now the mood is ripe and I want to draw this out, make the pleasure of this moment last.

I take Kit’s hand. “I’ve spoken to Thor and he has agreed with your leaders that you can stay here as long as you wish. What say you to a permanent diplomatic post? To be undertaken alongside your academic career, of course.”

“Oh.” Kit falters, has to think for a second about his answer. “That sounds great. Better than great. It's wonderful.”

“You expected something else?”

He looks me dead in the eye. “No. No. Nothing else.”

“A pity.” I bring his knuckles to my lips and kiss them, an emerald ring materialising when I withdraw. “I also want your hand. I want you to be Prince Consort. My husband.”

“Yes,” Kit says, staring at the ring.

“Yes?”

“Yes a hundred times. A thousand.”

“If we are lucky we will live for another three and a half thousand years. I will hold you to that promise.”

“Hold me however you like.”

Thor did say we have an hour. As my hand moves to his lap, he says, “You have made me a very happy man, Loki Odinson.”

“And you,” I whisper, “have made me a better one.”


	40. Epilogue

Epilogue

“You’re sure about this?” I ask, fingering the green crystal amulet that hangs around Kit’s neck as he stands before me in our apartment.

“Positive.”

“Because once they’re introduced—”

“They’ll fall madly in love and we won’t be able to keep them apart? I know.”

Two years have passed; two sweet years in which I have given everything to my husband, just as he has to me. My people accept him, like him even, and while I’m not exactly welcome on Midgard still, I’m left to my own devices while I’m there. I’m there often. Kit has done great things academically.

I’ve been busy too, perfecting a spell I should have cast long ago. I finished my work yesterday and today is the day I see it through.

We are in Asgard, in my rooms, stood in the soft pink light of the evening as it streams through the balcony door. I look at the amulet—a simple love token now repurposed as a harbour of safety and comfort, playing home to the love it once only represented.

“Go,” Kit say. “Go on. Don’t make them wait. I’ll be here when you get back.”

I close my eyes and let myself change, growing smaller and smaller until only my essence remains. I’m soon in the Quantum Realm, where I make my way to Sea Zone—a request of Kit’s—and find myself a new home.

It has changed little. Millennia have passed in this realm since our last visit, but in spirit it is much the same. The cities still rise from the sea and I am able to secure a fine apartment overlooking the ocean, just as I did before.

This time I’ve come better prepared. I’ve brought furnishings, Kit’s comforts and essentials, and a lot of gold. I arrange everything to my own tastes, knowing it will all be moved again when I’m gone.

Finally I settle down on the chaise and survey my work. I approve.

Lopt appears before me a moment later, brought into life for the first time since that night on Midgard when he fought for me.

“Kit!” he shouts, then looks around the room, feeling his body for bullet wounds. “Asgard,” he says. “Did he make it?”

“He made it.”

“Good. Not that I care. I’m just glad for you. How long has it been this time?”

I’m ashamed to admit it has been so long. “Two years.”

His face falls. “Two years? I really did serve my purpose that night, didn’t I?”

“I’d have brought you back sooner but...” I gesture to the space around me. “This took a long time.”

“This?”

“Your new home.”

His eyes widen. “You built me an apartment? Does this mean I’m here to stay?”

“Here, yes. This is the Quantum Realm. It’s a whole universe, quite densely populated in fact. I’ve created a talisman to hold you and Kit will keep it safe. Wherever you travel in this realm, your essence will always remain within it.”

“A real life,” he murmurs.

I point to the window and he goes to look at the ocean view. “They call this Sea Zone,” I say. “You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want, but Kit and I have some fond memories of the place. We thought you might like it.”

Lopt keeps his eyes on the endless ocean ahead of him. “This means I’m not coming back, doesn’t it?”

I wrap my arms around him for one final embrace as his first choice, if I am indeed still such. “Not at all,” I promise, kissing his jaw, “There are certain things I think I’d still like to meet you for. I suspect you’ll want me for the same, occasionally.” I open my palm and there is another amulet, just like the one I gave to Kit. “You’ll be able to contact me any time with this and I’ll be able to contact you before I summon you. Just in case it’s not a good time.”

“Impressive and thoughtful,” Lopt lets me hang the chain around his neck. In truth, this is the spell I’m most proud of. Given the disparity of time between our two worlds, I had to create a spell that disregarded time altogether, following our individual chronologies, not the one or the other. Time is essentially a local phenomenon, after all.

“It’s my pleasure,” I say, pleased when he kisses me. A part of me has missed that. His was the only comfort I knew for so long, and for him it has been the same. I wonder if, when the dust finally settles, he’ll miss me.

But he won’t miss me tonight.

“I have to go soon. There’s just one more thing.”

I summon a second form: slight, beautiful, full of love and built of pure joy. A perfect copy in all ways but one. “Hello,” he says.

“Well met, Kit,” Lopt replies.

“Call me Christopher.”

“Christopher? I thought you preferred Kit?”

Christopher shrugs. “The other me does. But he’s him and I’m me. I wanted to be a little different.”

Understanding dawns on Lopt’s face. He looks to me and I nod, confirm his suspicions. He won’t be alone. Stepping forward he offers Christopher his hand to shake in the Midgardian manner. “I’m Lopt.”

In return, Christopher offers the back of his hand, a request for a kiss which is gratefully accepted. “Hello, Lopt.”

Lopt lets his lips linger on Christopher’s flesh before he turns his eyes up to him. “I too am an improved version of someone else.”

Christopher looks at me and smiles. There’s a twinge of sadness in his look, but one I hope he’ll soon overcome. “I know your original. He’ll take some beating.”

“I agree. But I’m sure I’ll be able to rise to the occasion.”

I step forward, ready to make my goodbyes. “Check the kitchen, Christopher, make sure you’ve enough tea and cigarettes to get you through six months. I’ll bring much more on my next visit.”

Christopher kisses my cheek and then goes to check what I’ve left him, leaving me alone with Lopt who beams as he watches him leave.

“You gave me your boy,” he murmurs. “Thank you.”

“He wanted to join you. He couldn’t bear to think of you alone. But if you want to keep him, you must be good.”

Lopt winks at me. “I’m always good.”

“Well behaved. He won’t love a villain, but if you live a good life, he’ll love you. He’ll love you more than anything in the universe.”

“That seems like quite an incentive.”

Christopher returns, happy with the stash of treats I’ve left him and we say our goodbyes. I’m tempted to tell him he doesn’t have to stay but I know he is happy to. He wants nothing more than to be with me, whatever incarnation of me that might be.

They’re clasping hands as I close my eyes and let myself go, drifting back to Asgard and to my darling Kit.


End file.
